Better Days
by Colorful Crayola
Summary: Kathryn Walker just lost her parents in a terrible car accident. After an alien from another planet practically kidnaps her during a rescue, she learns that it might not have been an accident after all. She's under the protection of an Autobot for now, thrust into an intergalactic war because of something that happened almost a hundred years ago.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers!**

**I decided that I'm gonna publish my Transformers fanfic while I'm working on my AVP fanfic. I'm going to rapid-fire the first few chapters at you since I have this whole thing written already, it just needs to be reviewed and edited. I have the first like, six chapters already revised, they just need some small edits here and there for continuity. **

**So, hopefully someone enjoys this.**

**~Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter One<p>

"Kathryn are you okay to be at work?"

"I'm fine."

I walked into the back room to hang up my coat and purse. Though summer was practically upon us, it had been chilly the past couple of days, always threatening rain but never really making good on the threat.

My manager, Sharon, gave me a concerned look. She was maybe twenty years older than me, and the expression made the skin around her eyes crinkle. I kept my eyes focused on the task at hand though—straightening my name tag and checking my hair in the mirror. It had been windy, and I needed to flatten out the stray hairs. I liked having it up as a loose topknot, outside of and during work.

I'd managed to get my makeup on today, but I still wasn't feeling very pretty even with it on. My eyes still felt sore and swollen, and I could see how red they were around the green iris. It was better than it had been a few weeks ago when they had been completely bloodshot and a little puffy, but I still wasn't one hundred percent. I didn't know if I ever would be.

Sharon, apparently, could see that.

"Kathryn we told you you could take as much time as you needed. There is no rush to get back. We've got your paid vacation time, all of the paid sick days you've accumulated, paid bereavement—you can take as much time as you possibly need," she reassured me.

It was the third time she'd said the exact same thing since I'd told her I was coming in today.

I shook my head and forced a smile on my face. "I'm fine. I can't mope around that house any longer. I needed to get out."

She tilted her head slightly and sighed. "Kathryn it's only been a month. I'm sure you have things to go over with lawyers, selling the house, comforting other family members, going through mail. . . it's rough, losing both parents at the same time. No one here expects anything from you. We all loved Julie and Daryl, and we'll understand."

Closing my eyes, I stopped at the door and leaned against the wall next to it. I wanted to sarcastically thank her for reminding me, but she was absolutely right. I still had to put the house up for sale, find somewhere to move to after all of that, and I had to figure out what I was going to do with my parent's effects. Sure, I had first choice with the belongings but I already knew what I wanted, it was the rest of the stuff I had to find homes for.

Not even gone a month and already I'd have to deal with the vultures of my family scrambling to take their share of Mom and Dad's stuff.

At least there wasn't _much_ family left to be vultures. My grandparents on my mother's side were elderly and stuck in a retirement home, unable to even make the trip down from Wyoming. My dad's parents had already passed away five years ago and he had been an only child. The only other family I had were two uncles on my mom's side and all of their kids. I knew at least the family on my mom's side would want some keepsakes.

Was it terrible that I, too, had already eyed the things in their house that I wanted?

It wasn't much—they had a big screen TV I would take, all of the fine china Mom had collected, and of course most of the furniture as well as my dad's computer. I'd probably take Mom's spoon collection, as well. If I didn't, it would just get sold or thrown out. It made me feel terrible but there were things I needed, and sentimental things I wouldn't be able to do without. They would want it this way, wouldn't they?

"Kathryn?" Sharon murmured, stepping up to me.

I turned, slightly surprised by how close she had gotten, and ran my hand over my hair, careful not to misplace any strands. My eyes had started watering again, so I carefully brushed the tears aside without smearing my mascara.

"Take some more time. We won't think any less of you." She smiled warmly and put her hand on my shoulder. "You take care of yourself and your family. There will still be paychecks coming in, and then in another couple of weeks, come on back and work. We can start you slow—part-time hours for a while, move you back up into full-time when you're ready. . . ."

Blinking and getting control of myself again, I shook my head before forcing a smile. "No—no just a couple more weeks, then I can jump back in to full-time. I'll need the hours and. . . I'll need the distraction."

_And the money_.

Sharon looked like she was about to counter, but she thought better of it and just nodded. "Yeah, okay. Two more weeks, then give me a call, okay?"

I nodded and took a breath. "Alright. But that's it. Only two more weeks," I insisted, turning back around to grab my jacket and purse. I didn't know what I was going to do for the rest of the day besides call realtors—or maybe figure out if it was easier to sell the house myself. Maybe make some calls. There always seemed to be people to call.

"Of course," Sharon assured me, seeing me out of the back room.

A few other co-workers looked back at me and smiled warmly. A few murmured condolences, and some of the regular customers told me to hang in there. The only bank anywhere near Park City was in Laurel, twenty minutes away, so everyone in Park City had to come to Laurel for their banking and monetary needs, and in a small town like Park City, Montana everyone knew almost everyone. That meant they had already heard the news. Most of the town had come to the funeral, even. I knew all of their faces and all of their names. It was nice knowing I had an entire town for support.

Of course, that means I knew the people who had hit them, too.

At least they'd had the common courtesy to not show up to the funeral. It had been an accident—could have happened to anyone, sure, but that didn't mean I was still their best friends. Carla and her husband Lloyd worked at the local grocery store. They had been going out to lunch and supposedly they lost control of their car for—_no apparent reason_. Whatever that meant.

It was just long enough to slam their Cadillac into my parent's car. My mom didn't make it out of the car, and my dad hadn't made it out of surgery. Though it made me feel guilty down in the pit of my conscience, I was _glad_ that Carla and Lloyd had at least broken a few bones. My parent's Pinto didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell against their Escalade, and that was the only reason why _they_ lived while my parents wound up _dead._ If they had come out of it completely unscathed, I don't know what I would have done.

I had to tell myself it wasn't their fault, but I blamed them. Oh did I blame them. Lose control of their car—how did they manage that? Maybe it was an accident, the police sure seemed to think so, but I was glad they were giving me some space to cool down.

Their insurance had paid the emergency care bills and gave me the money for the car, but there was no life insurance for them—they hadn't expected to die anytime soon. That was all the money I was getting out of the accident, since I wasn't going to be able to sue them. My original plan _had_ been to sue them, though. For everything they were worth. But in a tiny town where everyone knew everyone, you had to be careful not to ostracize yourself. I would have been glared at, been mocked, been shunned by the rest of the town.

So I just took the insurance money and cut my losses.

I waved to the patrons as I exited the door and headed to my car. Something told me I should try to smile for them, and I managed a half-hearted grin before the door closed behind me.

For a moment I was confused after stepping into the parking lot. I usually parked my car in front of the same tree every day, but now it was in a different spot, across the parking lot. I stared at it for a moments, wondering if I was so out of it that I couldn't remember where I had parked. After a few seconds of looking around in confusion I shook my head and walked to my car.

_You're going crazy with grief._

My car was an off-white Toyota Camry that I'd had since I was seventeen. It had about a million miles on it, but it didn't require a whole lot of care and was generally pretty reliable. The thing had been my mom's when she was a teenager so it wasn't without problems, but it wasn't anything super expensive to care for. Maybe a fix here and there, but nothing that would break me.

Oddly enough, I had to adjust my seat and mirrors when I climbed into the car. It happened from time to time with the rear-view mirror because it was a little loose, but I'd never had to change my seat and my side mirrors, too.

"Am I sitting differently?" I whispered quietly to myself after checking to make sure that everything was set. I sighed and rubbed my forehead with my hand. I was more out of it than I had thought. It was probably best that I was going home where I couldn't mess up anything else.

I drove slowly just in case I overwhelmed by my emotions, as I had been a lot lately.

At least I-90 wasn't very busy this late in the morning, so it was only a thirteen minute drive back to the house instead of a twenty minute drive. It seemed like I'd been born in that house, so knowing I had to sell it made my throat clam up with emotions I couldn't name.

It just wasn't right! I was only twenty-two years old. I had so much to do, and my parents were supposed to see it. I was supposed to get married and they were supposed to be there, in the front row. I was supposed to have kids, and they were supposed to be there to spoil them. If I even decided I wanted kids.

I had plans to move out of state—maybe go work for a big chain bank in California. Go to school for. . . something, and get a real career. Without my parents around, though, I wasn't sure what I could do. What I wanted to do. If I could even have a life outside of the town anymore.

I felt more stuck than I ever had when they were still alive.

However, I knew the feeling would pass. Once it had all blown over, once I sold the house and got the estate straightened out, I would be able to move. I _had_ to move. I was not about to live in my childhood home without my parents, and it was the perfect opportunity to get out. I'd been saving for the past three years to move somewhere, and now I had that chance.

Though I wouldn't quite call it a blessing in disguise, there was at least a tiny silver lining to this storm cloud of my life.

*:･ﾟ✧

I parked in front of our one-car garage, locked up my car, and then made my way inside. My purse was tossed on one end of the couch, my jacket draped over the back of it, and I locked the door behind me. There was stuff I had to do, and I quickly flicked through my mental checklist. Only a few more calls to lawyers, and a bunch of calls to realtors.

However, once inside, I didn't do any of those. I just face-planted on the couch instead. Business suit and everything. I stayed like that for a while, one leg hanging over the side and face buried in the cushions until my body reminded me that I need to breathe.

Finally, the better half of my judgment told me to get up and stop wrinkling my clothes. I pushed off the couch and headed into my room to change. Only a few things had changed in that room in all my years of living there—My twin bed had been replaced with a queen about two years ago. I'd repainted the ugly pink walls into a dark maroon after high school, and the posters of boy bands had been replaced with a calendar and a big movie poster for Skyline I'd gotten a hold of.

I'd wanted to move out at twenty, but I hadn't quite gotten my life together by then. It was a miracle I'd even gotten a job, since I'd decided not to go to college right away. My mom had already had a job at the bank, so I'd weaseled my way in as a teller. The job was just taking money and giving out change—all of the basic stuff. I would have to go to special classes if I wanted to be a real banker like Mom had been. It wasn't hard work, and the people were nice, so it was a pretty decent first job straight out of high school.

I sat down and looked at my phone, staring at the contacts. I still hadn't taken my parents' numbers out. Their names sat there, and I thought about calling them to hear the voicemail, but I knew that wouldn't do any good. It would make things worse. Besides that, I had already called the phone company to let them know that they wouldn't be using the service anymore. Chances were I'd just get an automated message telling me the line was no longer in service.

That definitely would have made things worse.

Once changed into street clothes, I sat down on the couch and put my hands in my head. I only sat like that for a second before turning on the TV. I just left it on any channel and remained like that for a moment or two more, reflecting and soul-searching. I couldn't be like this forever, I'd had almost a month to get over it, but all of that time had been dealing with family and the funeral and the lawyers.

One hour, a full episode, had passed before I decided to be productive. I'd flipped it on to the first crime drama I could find, and now some movie was playing.

I left it on that channel and moved from the couch over to the ancient desktop computer in the corner of the room. I couldn't wait until I could ditch the dinosaur and take my dad's newer computer he used for work. I probably could have done it at any time, but I felt like it would make his office feel more empty. The thought made me twinge with guilt, but I knew I had to move past it.

And part of moving on was selling the house.

The house, and all of their stuff.

What was I going to do, anyway? A yard sale? I'd have to tell everyone about it so they could come pick it apart. They had been through the house already, and most of my extended family only lived a few hundred miles away—they would most likely drive back down to scavenge. The rest would have to be sold in a yard sale and then donated—

It was too much to think about. I had to do it one step at a time.

So, with a heavy heart and some concentration, I opened up the internet browser and started to look for realtors and house-selling tips.

*:･ﾟ✧

Staying cooped up in the house wasn't an option for me. Ever since I was little there was never _not_ a time that I didn't have something to do. Whether it was playing with friends, going to school, cheerleader practice (I wasn't great at it so I'd quit before high school), homework, or my job; I always had _something _to occupy my time.

The last month was almost worse than torture. If I wasn't meeting with the lawyers or trying to get some semblance of a funeral going, I had nothing to do. Work wouldn't take me and some days I just didn't feel like going outside at all.

The boredom was taking its toll.

I was going to go stir crazy if I didn't figure out something.

Even though it pained me so, the most obvious thing seemed to be to go to the grocery store and stock up. I hadn't gone at all since the accident, instead getting my essentials from the gas station down the street from me—milk, water, some snacks to keep me from starving. . . .

But I could only stall the inevitable for so long.

Carla and Lloyd were the last people on Earth I wanted to see, but there was only one real grocery store in town, however tiny it was. Sure there was Wal-Mart in the next town over, but I hated driving all the way out there. I usually preferred going to the local grocery stores anyway. But maybe I could make an exception this one time and drive out to Laurel.

Because I sure wasn't ready to forgive those two. But, I had to try.

I psyched myself up for the trip, put on my Vans sneakers, grabbed my car keys hanging on the doorknob from the long Roxy lanyard my friend had bought me years ago, and went outside.

No turning back now.

My drive out to the grocery store was spent giving myself a pep-talk. I kept the radio down low while the stupid commercials played, hands on ten and two, and eyes straight forward.

"You need more food. You got cereal to last you till tomorrow, but you need more than that. You've lost weight. Gotta keep eating. . . really splurge yourself and buy something with some substance maybe a steak how hard can steak be to cook, really? You'll figure it out. It can't be that hard," I muttered to myself, trying hard to work myself up to it.

The turn came. I was a block away from the turn and my eyes darted to the small building with the big _Kwik Stop_ sign on top. It was really just a convenience store, but it still helped. If it wasn't here, we'd have to drive out to our neighboring town for anything.

Besides not having a few things like a bank, we were a pretty self-sustained little town. Park City didn't have much in the terms of entertainment, though. It was one of the only reasons why my friends and I didn't get into trouble in high school—there was literally nothing to _do_ to get into trouble.

Well there was the casino but we weren't allowed anywhere near that when we were high school. They'd see us coming a mile away and have security ready to throw us out before we even reached the door. If we wanted to entertain ourselves we had to make our own fun. Once we could drive, though, we would head over to nearby towns for parties.

I reached the turn and I slowed down just a little bit, flicking on my blinkers to turn right. There was a tightness in my chest, and when the moment came—I turned off my blinker and stayed straight.

A strange sound made me turn my attention to the car. I dialed the radio down to absolute silence and stared at my steering wheel for a second, still glancing up at traffic, and tried to listen for the sound again. It had been like a groan, like there was a strain on my axels or something, but I didn't hear it again no matter how I tried to replicate it.

"Stupid car," I sighed, turning instead into the Smoken Antlers BBQ Café.

Guess tomorrow I was just going to have to drive the twenty minutes to Laurel and do all of my shopping there. For now I would just splurge and eat a real meal at the café. I didn't normally like going somewhere and eating alone, but there would be plenty of people in there to keep me company.

In a town of only 800-some-odd people, you were never really _alone_, even if you felt like everyone important to you was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello readers!**

**I forgot to mention that while this does have a T-rating, there will be some mild swear words and the occasional F-bomb. Not as frequent as my AVP story, but y'know it's dropped occasionally. So don't be surprised.**

**~ Crayola**

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

I woke up the next day to my phone ringing. I'd gone to bed late after watching late night television. The phone was always kept next to my pillow where my alarm could easily wake me up, and the ringer—a small sound clip from the Star Wars movies—startled me out of my slumber. Groaning, I rolled over and slid my hand under my pillow, fishing around for it.

For a moment I just stared at the phone's screen, trying to decide if I was dreaming or awake, and the caller ID convinced me I was probably awake: it was my friend Marie. I murmured incoherently and wiped some drool from my mouth.

Rolling back over on my back, I slid my finger across the screen and put the Android to my ear, and my other hand on my forehead. "Hello?"

"You awake?"

"Now I am."

"Oh sorry girl. I was just calling to check up on you. It's like, almost ten in the morning anyway you should get up and greet the day!" Marie sounded just as chipper as usual.

Ugh. Morning people.

"I'm doing fine. You're right, though, I should probably get up."

Let's forget the fact that I'd set an alarm. Oh well.

"There you go! What are your plans for today?" she asked. I could hear her rummaging around and fussing over her one-year-old baby. She had rushed to marry her high school sweetheart and start a family. The kid was cute, though. I had to give her that.

"I have to go meet with a realtor in like two hours. Probably just going to straighten up and clean until she arrives. How's little Mikey?" I asked. As if reacting to his name, the little baby started to whine. I can't imagine he'd heard me through the phone, though. Unless Marie had me on speaker, and that was a possibility.

"Great! He's been fussy lately, but with his first birthday coming up we're super excited! You'll come to the party, right?"

"Sure. When is the party?"

"His birthday is August eighth, so we'll have his birthday the weekend after!"

"I'll be there. You know he won't remember it, right?"

"Oh I know! It's more for me and Daddy, isn't it my little peanut?" I assumed she was talking to the baby and not to me.

"Well so long as you know."

"How hard do you think it'll be to sell the house?" she asked. I could still hear Mikey making baby noises in the background.

"Well I'm not sure. This is a tiny town. I'm sure everyone who needs a house already has one," I muttered. I finally decided to get out of bed, so I swung my legs over the side and sat up, yawning and stretching my back. It popped in a few places and relief washed through me.

Marie scoffed. "Oh please. Someone's always looking for a nicer house or more room or a different location! I bet someone will buy it!"

"Maybe."

"Don't be so negative!"

I stood up, slipped on my slippers, and headed for the kitchen for some delicious cereal. It was about the only thing I ate now since my parents died. I couldn't put off food shopping for much longer. Maybe I would try again today, and if not, I'd just go to Wal-Mart. "Yeah I'll try. Only because you told me to."

"Good! Where do you think you'll move? You could come live with me and the hubby! Our lease is up in November, we could get an apartment together!" she suggested.

I thought about that for a moment. "Really?" I asked, trying to stall a little bit. While she ranted about how awesome it would be, I just thought about waking up to a crying baby at all hours of the night. Not to mention moving out to Bozeman where her husband went to Montana State University. I was sure I could get a job. . . .

". . . transfer to the bank here!" she finished.

First I nodded, then I realized she couldn't see that and said, "Yeah I'll definitely think about it. Maybe you could look around and let me know if there's an apartment we could all afford."

"For sure I will!"

"Sounds good to me."

"Now, I have to go feed the little peanut here, so I'm gonna go. You keep hanging in there okay girly!" Her endless cheer never ceased to amaze me.

"I will. Give him a tickling for me, okay?" I couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"I sure will! Anything to hear him laugh! Good luck with the house!"

"Thanks. Have a good day."

"You too! Bye!"

"Bye." I took my phone from my ear and went to hit the cancel button, but Marie beat me to it and the call dropped before I could. I sighed and put my phone on the counter so I could feed myself.

It wasn't often that I cooked real meals, not when I could just pour cereal and milk into a bowl and get on with my life. If my mom wasn't cooking something, my diet consisted mostly of salads, fruits, macaroni and cheese, the occasional hamburger, TV dinners, and hotdogs. Up until this point in my life, I hadn't needed to really cook. My mom handled the meals and sometimes I helped out. Now I had nothing but an empty fridge, milk and cereal.

Within one foul swoop, I was thrust into single life without really any preparation.

I'd always had my parents around, and now I didn't have so much as a fish to keep me company. I could handle the monthly bills coming up, but the mortgage was more than I wanted to pay for rent so that was going to be a chunk of cash I didn't want to spend. I could afford it because of the insurance money, but that didn't mean I _wanted_ to afford it.

But more than the feeling of sudden fiscal responsibility, I felt _lonely_. I had absolutely no one to come hang out with me because Marie being hundreds of miles away, and she was one of the only friends I'd stayed in contact with after high school.

It wasn't for lack of trying, of course. Boys came and went, but I could never commit to any of them. I wasn't the type to just settle for the first person who came sniffing, and my high standards usually chased off potential suitors. I'd had a few boyfriends in high school and I'd hooked up a few times at parties, but they never lasted very long.

All of the friends I'd had really had just been Marie's. We got along, but usually we weren't interested in the same things. After we'd graduated, they'd all moved on to bigger and better things or had stuck around to do their own things.

And now I had no one. Outside of Facebook, anyway.

Some boys came looking for an easy lay when my parents had died—well I _assumed_ they were trying to take advantage of my emotionally compromised state—but I was not in the mental condition to deal with dating and I sent them all away. Sometimes I wished I hadn't, but hooking up at this point in my life wasn't really a good thing.

Hunger made me push my thoughts aside. I was going to give myself an aneurism if I kept worrying about that stuff. Things would get better when I moved out.

That was what I kept telling myself.

I sat down on the couch and pulled the coffee table in close so I could eat my cereal without being completely hunched over. I flicked the TV on to the first crime show I could find and sat back to watch and eat my Froot Loops.

*:･ﾟ✧

The last hour of my mope-fest through the house was spent straightening everything and cleaning once again. I'd done it just before the funeral, but that had been almost a month prior. Dust gathered quickly and it took almost the full hour to get everything in tip-top shape. At least with just me living in there the only room I had to actually organize was my own. The rest went untouched.

That gave me thirty minutes before my appointment with my realtor to shower and get out of my pajamas—nothing too fancy, a decently fitted shirt and my nicest pair of jeans. I put my hair up the way I liked and tossed on some makeup. Some lady named Jennifer was going to show up. She was from Laurel, so I didn't really know her at all.

The doorbell surprised me when it rang, making me jump. I sighed and put a hand over my heart, then checked the time. She was almost ten minutes early. Awesome. All the same, I managed to smile when I opened the door. She was grinning ear to ear and wore a sharper-looking suit than I thought I'd ever be able to afford. Or want to afford..

"Hello Kathryn! My name's Jennifer, we spoke on the phone yesterday? I'm here to have a look at your house!" she greeted me once the door was open, extending her hand for me to shake. "I realize I'm early, traffic was better than I expected it to be today."

I smiled gently and shook her hand politely, then stepped aside so that she could actually come into the house. We didn't really have a porch, just a single step into the house and a short walk-way from the sidewalk. "It's alright . Please, call me Kat." My full name was strictly for professional use at work, and even then only my manager called me Kathryn.

Literally everyone else in town, if they knew me, called me Kat.

Jennifer nodded and then her smile faded the slightest bit. "I wish I was here on happier terms, though. I'm sorry to hear about your parents' passing."

I politely smiled and closed the door once she'd stepped inside. "Thank you. It's been hard."

"I can imagine. I'll try to make this as painless as possible. It'll be easy—we'll just walk through the house, I'll look around and then once we're done, I'll give you an estimate of how much I think we can ask for. Then I can schedule an appointment with a professional who will come through and look at the structure and the wiring and tell us if everything is up to code! If there's no repairs to be made, then we can get a better idea of how much you can get for the house," she explained.

"So there's not a whole lot for me to do?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Nope! You won't even have to move out until it's sold if you don't want to. We'll just schedule people to have a look around, and you can go out and have dinner or something!"

"Is the market even any good out here?" I asked skeptically. I had the curtains drawn back to let the sunlight in. No use wasting electricity now that I had to pay for it.

Jennifer stood in the middle of the living room and turned in a circle. "Oh it's fine! People are always looking for a small town to retire to, or to raise a family in. Your parent's house is of decent size, too, so it's perfect for people in town who are getting ready to start a family."

"Oh. Good, I was pretty worried." Though it sounded like she had practiced that particular line over and over again.

"No need! So, shall we have a look around?"

I gestured toward the hallway and led her to the different parts of the house. Usually when we had guests over I wasn't ever alone, and now walking through it with a stranger felt a little weird to me.

Everything was in its place. The computer, the large TV, shelves with board games. . . . Their bed was made perfectly in their room. I noticed only a few things that I had missed, but if Jennifer noticed or cared she didn't really let on so I just slipped behind her to pick up some wrappers or other bits of trash that I had forgotten to toss.

I wished I had taken the trash to the curb, but it was too late now.

Somehow I managed to keep my cool in front of Jennifer, though several times I had to carefully wipe away stray tears as I reminisced certain memories. She had a little notebook that she wrote in occasionally. When I asked, she just said she was writing down the highlights she could use to sell it.

The yard and the basement were the only places that weren't in pristine care. The grass in the back wasn't very well-manicured, but it was green, at least. Grass and weeds alike. I'd attempted to mow the lawn, but that kind of labor was beyond me. The storage shed in the corner held gardening tools and said lawnmower. Our white-wood fence was in good repair, as well. Five feet tall and with no loose boards. We'd had to restore it after our dog died a few years prior, mainly because he'd chewed through as a puppy so he could go visit the neighbors.

Our garage was used mostly for storage. Some boxes full of baby clothes, old toys, and photo albums kept each other company in the dark. There was even a treadmill that Dad had bought one year. He'd used it for a grand total of three months and then shoved it into storage. I thought I remembered my uncle saying he wanted it.

I expected it to succumb to the exact same fate.

It only took forty-five minutes to go over the whole house, then we were back in the living room, standing behind the loveseat and staring at each other.

"So, what do you think?" I asked, rubbing my fingers.

Jennifer wrote another little note in her pad and looked around, taking in a deep breath. "I think it's a beautiful house. I honestly don't think we'll have any trouble selling it. I wish it was on better circumstances, but yes. You've got a real nice piece of land here."

"That's great. How much do you think?"

She took out a little folder from her bag and flicked through the papers. "Well, based on location, size, the state of the house from what I've seen—I think you're looking at a minimum of 125."

"Thousand?"

"Of course, silly!"

I smiled and put my hand against my chest. I honestly didn't know much money that was in the grand scheme of things, but it sounded like a lot to me. "Oh wow."

"Yes! That's just a low-ball. Once I set up the appointment with the contractor to come in and have a look around for code violations—which I didn't see any with just a quick glance—then I can get to calculating exactly how much we can ask for."

"That's great. Was there anything else you needed to see today?"

Jennifer looked through her folder again and pursed her lips. "Mm—no I don't think so! I got all of the highlights and features I need for a listing description so I think we're good for the day. I hope I didn't hold you up."

"Oh no, I didn't have a whole lot of plans today."

"Great! Then I'll call you when I know when we can get a contractor out here, okay?"

I nodded and opened the door for her. "Yes, please do. I'll look forward to your call."

"Thanks again! Talk to you soon!"

"Yup, have a good one." I lifted my hand in a small wave and stood in the doorway for a second, waiting for her to leave. When her car pulled away, I closed the door and leaned my forehead against it.

She'd thrown that number at me like it was nothing. I didn't know a whole lot, and I imagined I wouldn't be seeing that kind of money right away even if it sold, but it still seemed like a lot. Would it go toward what mortgage was left? Would I see any of that money? I had so many questions, but I doubted that I would just _get_ that kind of cash.

Well, I would be happy with anything I could get. Being an adult was still practically new to me. I'd lived with my parents up until this time, and now they had been torn from me. I was going to have to learn quick how the world worked. Even if I only got a little bit of the money, that would still be more than I had right then.

It would be enough to move out at least. Start over somewhere new. Maybe even have a better life than I did right now.

My tummy rumbled and I wandered over to the kitchen. It was almost one in the afternoon and I had eaten a late breakfast, but cereal wouldn't keep me full. I rummaged through the pantries and found fixings for peanut butter and jelly, but no bread. I had half a pack of cheese, but nothing to go with it. I closed the fridge and wandered back to my living room.

_Just go to the store. Even if it is Wal-Mart. Just go._

I sighed and sat down, turning on the TV. Maybe first I would watch some TV. Unwind from the meeting with the realtor. However, fifteen minutes in and my stomach was reminding me that I needed to eat, so I got up and moved into the kitchen again. I opened the fridge like it would magically refill itself, but was disappointed to find that it was just as empty as it had been.

Eh. Cheese would have to do.

When I returned to the couch, I had the half a pack of cheese in my hand and ate the rest of that. I watched two episodes of some CSI knock-off before the hunger really started to get to me.

"Fine. . . I'll go," I muttered to myself, turning off the TV and slipping into my shoes.

I was outside before I could talk myself out of it. I locked the door behind me and headed out to where my car was waiting for me.

I stopped short and stared at it for a while. It was backed into the driveway instead of my usually way of pulling forward into it. My mouth fell open only slightly and I glanced about, my keys in my hand, and tried to make sense of it all. Had I really parked like that when I got back from the café? I closed my eyes and pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead. I had been so sure, but now the memory seemed hazy and I couldn't recall.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again. "You're not crazy, you're not crazy."

Another sigh. "She said, speaking to herself like a crazy person."

My car was still sitting there in the driveway, silent and waiting, when I opened my eyes. I shook my head and climbed inside. More than likely I was a little crazy, but it would get better. I wasn't getting good sleep. Once that went back to normal, my mental health would, too.

The car started normally and drove normally—so I chalked it up to not getting enough sleep. To the grocery store. "For real, this time," I whispered to myself. I was feeling like fries for dinner, anyway. Maybe I'd even get something to go with the fries.

Like soda.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Half way to the market, a pair of lights sprang up into my rear-view mirror. It was followed shortly by the loud _bwip-bwip_ of warning sirens. I wasn't sure why: police barely ever came here unless they were called. Maybe they patrolled the freeway, but not _in_ town.

Confused and a little nervous, I glanced at my rear-view mirror and sure enough it _was_ a police cruiser. An unfamiliar one. All of the cops I knew still sported Impalas, but this one looked like a brand new Mustang cruiser. Had they switched to a new cruiser recently? I hadn't ever seen any cops in town drive one of those—it gave me a bad feeling. Did cops even use Mustangs? I thought it was Chargers.

I definitely didn't recognize the man sitting in the driver's seat, either, but then again I really only new the sheriff from Laurel.

Being pulled over in general always started my heart racing, and now this. The first ticket I had gotten was when I first landed my license. Someone called the police when they spotted me doing cookies in an empty parking lot that winter. A good lecture had gone along with that ticket and I hated the feeling so much that I hadn't done anything stupid since.

That same tight-chested feeling was back now.

The second time I was pulled over was earlier that month. When my parents had died.

I slowed down and pulled over to the right against the curb, then turned the engine off but left the key turned so that I could still work the lights and the windows and, if I had so wanted, the radio. However, I made sure to turn it down so I could talk to him without being rude.

Despite being nervous, I knew there was a procedure to follow. If I was ready and prepared, I could get away with a warning, maybe. Be polite, don't bull shit—I tried to still my beating heart. Once settled, my trembling hands pulled out my license and proof of insurance, then I spent what precious few seconds I had trying to decide what I was going to tell him.

But I didn't even know what I was getting pulled over _for_. I sped occasionally, but since my emotionally compromised state I had fallen back on safe driving to make sure I didn't wind up in the same state my parents had.

So what I had done?

While he caught up to where I was pulled over, my mind went over what it could have been. License plate? I had renewed them a few months ago. Lights? No it wasn't dark enough to turn them on, they wouldn't have known if one was out. It was almost five at night, but it wouldn't be dark for another four hours at least. Maybe it was just a cop checking in on me. It had been an officer that pulled me over to tell me that my parents had been killed, but that was when I was on my way home from work, not here in town.

Instead of pulling up behind me, though, the officer pulled his car up next to mine. Now completely confused, I rolled down my window and leaned out so I wouldn't have to yell as loudly. I could tell now that I definitely didn't know who this cop was.

Heat flushed my cheeks. I was sure anyone close enough to see what was going on would recognize me. Hopefully I didn't hear about it on Facebook too badly. Word traveled fast in this stupid wanna-be town.

"Evening, sir. What's the problem?" I asked as sweetly as possible, tilting my head to the side.

The mustachioed cop turned his head to look at me. I couldn't quite see his expression behind the giant aviator glasses he wore, but his lips were in a thin line, and he looked like a no-nonsense kind of guy. He didn't say a thing, either. Just stared at me.

"Officer?" I pressed, still keeping my voice sweet and innocent. Now that slight bad feeling in my stomach had turned into a knot of unease.

A light flashed from somewhere on the car, and it blinded me for a second. I held my hand up to shield my eyes and squinted hard. It was like the sun had shifted, or was being reflected off of something, but it wasn't natural—it was a sharp white-blue color and looked fluorescent. And for a moment I thought it was coming from _inside_ the car. "Hey, what. . . ?"

Suddenly, my car roared to life and peeled out from next to the cop car without me doing a single thing. A mechanical roar sounded behind me, like some sort of weird honking sounds from the cop car now being left behind.

"What the hell!" I cried, pulling back in the window and gripping the steering wheel. My car made a right turn at about 50, then sped up even faster on the deserted neighborhood road.

I was officially freaking out by that time. Only some of the roads were paved, most were dirt, so going as fast as my car was just wasn't safe. Already I could feel us swerve and fish tail around some corners, and I frantically tried to gain control of my vehicle again. I was pushing on the break pedal, but it wouldn't give and the gas pedal was pressed all the way against the floor. I reached for the emergency break, but when I tugged at it, it wouldn't budge.

I tried to open the door even, to just bail—tuck and roll. However, the door was locked and my window had rolled itself up. Try as I might, though, I couldn't manage to pull up the locking mechanism and the switches on my car door weren't doing anything to my windows, either. I thought that only happened in the movies! How was that possible?

It was probably for the best. Tucking and rolling at 60 probably would have seriously injured me.

_"__Hey hey don't be going nowhere. I'm trying to help!"_

My mouth fell open and I stared, wide-eyed, at my radio. Had—had my car just _spoken_? It certainly hadn't been the radio. There was no way that was my favorite radio's DJ. None of them sounded like that.

"Wu—wuh—" Nothing but babbled nonsense came out of my mouth.

_"__I'll explain later. We gotta lose this fool."_

And that was the end of that. I took a few rapid, deep breaths, and then screamed. Screamed for everything I was worth. Screamed until I ran out of breath, then I thrashed slightly in my chair and against the seatbelt restraining me.

"No no no no!" I wailed, scenes from the movie _Christine _running through my mind.

Of course I didn't remember Christine talking. Just. Killing people. I was being kidnapped by own car, somehow possessed by a demon or a ghost or _something_ and there was absolutely no way I was explaining to this a cop. Or anyone.

Maybe if I was lucky everyone would just think I'd gone crazy with grief.

Maybe if I was lucky they'd lock me up in the madhouse instead of jail.

And that was only if I was _lucky_. I didn't want to think about what would happen if I was _unlucky._

Sirens blared from behind me and I turned around to see that the cop car was tailing closely behind me. There was absolutely no way that my old beater was out-running this thing. But somehow, despite the odds, it was keeping pace. It was _holding its own_ against the monster of technology racing behind us.

And yet. . . somehow, in the back of my mind, I still cared what _bystanders_ were going to think.

The cop car sped up again and rammed the back of my car. It lurched forward and I was thrown against my seatbelt, then back into my seat.

"God dammit _please stop_! Let me out, let me out!"

_"__Whatever you say little miss."_

My possessed car turned sharply onto Cemetery Road. It ran along the cemetery that sat just outside of the town. After a moment, it barreled through the closed gate, jarring me, and drove over the bumpy ground before spinning a three-sixty. My door opened, my seatbelt released, and then I was thrown unceremoniously to the ground.

I let out a distressed sound as I landed in a heap, bruised and sore. My head was spinning and now parts of my body smarted from various scrapes. I managed to pull my limbs in, afraid of getting run over by the wheels.

_"__I'll be back!"_

I got to my feet and brushed myself off, then looked around for my car. It was speeding around the corner down the street, and the Mustang cop car was slowing down in front of me. I sighed in relief and turned to face it, brushing aside the feeling of foreboding and panic.

The feeling was compounded when the car stopped, but the officer didn't climb out and demand I get on the ground. Or whatever it was cops do. I'm sure it wasn't _nothing_.

Now came the hard part.

"Holy shit! Officer, officer I swear! You might think I'm crazy, but seriously! It _was not my fault_! My car drove off _by itself_!" I yelped, jogging around the car towards the driver's side, favoring my left leg. A weird noise made me freeze.

"Please! I'm sorry! Just—listen!" I begged, walking a little slower toward the car. I raised my hands to signify defeat, but I still couldn't understand why he wasn't climbing out of the car. Why he didn't have his gun drawn or handcuffs ready or—why he wasn't even saying anything to me! "It _spoke_ to me! Like really _talked _to me!"

Then, the police cruiser's engine revved and the car turned, wheels kicking up dirt, and it _charged_ me. Like it wanted to _run me over_.

"Hey, hey, hey! I just—_what the fuck_!" I yelled as I turned to run. I was certain this was not normal cop behavior, even in the movies. First I was getting kidnapped by my own car, and now a cop was trying to run me over.

This. Fucking. Day.

I didn't even get to turn all the way around before the car _leaped_ into the air. Like really _jumped_. Metal ground together and gears whirred as the car shifted and morphed from a familiar form to something straight from a sci-fi movie. Before the car landed from its leap, it transformed into a giant robot—an _angry_ looking robot.

"Oh, shit," I muttered, frozen to the spot as a giant metallic claw groped toward me.

Before it grabbed me, a horn blared in the distance. It was enough to distract the monster in front of me and we both turned—it was my car. My demon-possessed car. It charged right for the monster, horn blaring in a challenging battle cry, tires kicking up dirt and rocks.

The black, two-story tall robot dipped down and picked my car up before flipping it to the side, making it land on its roof. It stared at my upside down car for a moment, and then turned back to me.

It had given me enough time to gather my wits, though.

Screaming, I whirled around and bolted as fast as I could in the opposite direction. The robot caught up to me easily though and batted me to the side. I shouted in pain and surprise as I was thrown onto a tombstone, then turned to face it. Both of its arms were on either side of me and it was crouched down, pinning me against the stone slab. I was not going anywhere.

"KATHRYN VICTORIA WALKER?" the robot demanded with a loud, booming voice, leaning down closer to me. I could feel the heat coming off of him in thick waves and his glowing red eyes bore straight into my soul. His head was roughly the size of my torso.

And this thing knew my name. _Why did it know my name_. What in the seven hells was going on!

"What do you want with me?" I shouted, my voice cracking halfway through.

The robot made a triumphant, mechanic howl, then reared back in victory. I stole the moment and rolled under the giant, shooting like a scared cat between its legs. I managed to get to my feet and ran for it. My chest was heaving with the effort and every muscle in my body, even ones I didn't know I had, were complaining every step.

This was the most exercise I'd ever gotten since quitting cheerleading in eight grade.

Once again, the robot caught up to me easily and smacked me back to the ground. It was about that time I decided running wasn't such a good idea. I was now tired, but in the exact same position I had been in before, and probably covered in gigantic bruises or welts. Or both. Maybe something had even broken. I couldn't really tell at that particular moment because adrenaline was fueling me onward and numbing pain.

I was certainly going to feel everything when this was over.

If I didn't _die_.

It was funny how just a few minutes ago I had been afraid of my car, and now wanted it to come save me like it had tried to just a few seconds ago. Where had it gone? Was it even trying to save me or was it trying to fight this other one off so it could have me all to itself? Did that even make any sense? Nothing really made any sense.

"Help! Someone help me!" I shouted, now crying. I had been too scared to shed tears seconds ago, but now I was hopeless. This giant robot was going to pick me up and eat me or take me to their leader and have them eat me. Either way I was certain I was getting eaten. Or smashed. I was going to die without knowing why this thing was mad at me in the first place.

Rescue came in a matter of seconds. A dull white blur sailed over me and crashed into the much larger robot, taking it down. _Another_ robot? I glanced around to see that my car was gone. So, did that make this new robot actually my car. . . ?

Despite being smaller, the robot that looked like my car was giving the larger robot-cruiser a run for its money. If I didn't know better, it looked like the little robot was dancing more than fighting, but the fake police car couldn't recover from the erratic and oddly graceful blows it was taking. Once it put up its guard, though, it managed a few nasty shots as well.

The fight lasted only a minute, then the black robot disengaged from my car and stood still, as if it was waiting for something or listening to something that I couldn't hear. Its red eyes never left the white-colored robot. My not-car was standing over me, legs spread slightly and arms out like a linebacker. Finally, the black car turned around, snarled some strange words, and converted back into vehicle mode before zipping back to the street and out of sight.

"Tha's right! Run off like the bitch y'are!" my car yelled after it.

Him. I don't know, both of them sounded male but they were robots. What did I know.

"What the hell? What! The! _Hell_!" I screamed, holding my head between my hands and backing up. At some point I had gotten to my feet to avoid being crushed. I didn't even remember doing that: my mind was so preoccupied with what had just happened. Advanced robots? The Japanese could make robots like no one else, maybe the Japanese had declared war on us!

Declared war? On who? On _me_?

That robot had _known my name_. The Japanese wouldn't want to rage war against a twenty-two-year-old woman! I had never even _been_ to Japan!

"You a'ight?" I heard the other robot ask.

I looked up sharply at the robot and actually screamed. In my hysteria I hadn't noticed it had walked up to me. That it was kneeling down to get to my eye level. I scrambled for a second and then booked it across the cemetery, using what was left of the adrenaline to power me into a sprint again.

However, I didn't know what I was expecting. How far I thought I was going to get.

"Woah! Where you goin'?"

The sound of his thunderous footsteps made me put on another spurt of speed, but for every ten paces I took, he only took one. Maybe half. He was smaller than the cop-robot by maybe four feet, but that was still larger than me.

He jogged around me and I skid to a stop, trying to turn and run in the opposite direction, but I slipped on some loose gravel and almost fell. He scooped me up in his four-fingered hand and lifted me off the ground by my torso before I could, though. I felt like a toy being plucked out of the pile in one of those claw machines. I whimpered quietly and tried to pry myself out, but he held tight.

"Let me go! Please let me go! I'll do whatever you want! I just—I can't take you to the president! I don't know him! Please I'm just a small-town bank teller!" I practically sobbed.

He crouched slightly over the ground, holding my in one hand and bringing his other hand up to hover over my head. Like I was a hamster that felt more secure in tight places. Except that if I tried to be like a real hamster and bite him, I probably would just break my teeth.

"Shh. Calm down little miss. . . I ain't gonna hurt ya." He pulled me in close to his chest.

Like I was a fucking rabbit.

At the moment, though, I kind of felt like a rabbit. My heart was beating hard enough against my chest to hurt and I was looking around frantically, trying to find an escape. My arms pressed hard against his cool, metallic hand, trying to pull myself from his grip. He held me tight, but gently, the way you're supposed to hold a butterfly.

My feet kicked underneath me, but the fight was starting to drain from my mind and body. Hopelessness was starting to settle in and I gasped for breath, trying hard not to cry, but the tears came without my permission. Then, all at once, I went still and slumped in his hand and sobbed.

"Wha—why're you. . . ?" He didn't seem to know what to make of it. "N-no don' cry! No—see—I ain't gonna hurt ya!"

He proved his point by putting me down gently. My legs wouldn't support me right away, so I ended up half-sitting and half-lying in the dirt between two sets of tombstones. I didn't even want to think about how much bad luck I'd racked up by disturbing these graves.

"See?"

I fought to get control of my emotions and took deep, gasping breaths, wiping frantically at my eyes, trying to keep my mascara from smearing. It took a few moments, and the robot still hovered over me, his hands never far away in case I was going to bolt, or maybe he just didn't know what to do with them to help soothe me.

Though I finally managed to stop crying and actually get to my feet, I wasn't quite calm enough to be speaking rationally about anything.

"_What_ the hell is going on?" I demanded. My voice sounded high-pitched, even to me. My hands were on my head, and my top-knot had long since been dislodged, my dirty-blonde hair falling loose against my shoulders. "What _are_ you? What _is going on!"_

He crouched low, perched over the ground, and waved a hand gently in my direction. It made me flinch. "Calm down little miss, calm down."

"What's going on? What's going on?" I repeated it like a mantra, grabbing handfuls of my hair and tugging. Not hard enough to pull it out, but hard enough to cause some pressure and give me something to focus on besides the giant talking robot.

"Why don' we talk 'bout it later? When you calmed down a bit," he suggested, his head cocked to the side slightly.

I turned my head a bit to look at him—really look at him. If there was any doubt that this robot was _my _car, it was gone after a quick examination. The whole front chassis of my car made up his chest plate, two tires were his shoulders, and my license plate was draped over his midsection like some sort of belt buckle.

My eyes slowly made their way to his face and I sniffed wetly. "Wh-what do you want with me?" I asked, stopping to clear my throat. Unlike the cop car, his optics were colored blue.

Did that really mean what I thought it meant? Blue good, red bad? It seemed so simple.

"Nuthin'! Just t'keep ya safe. You like me to take ya home?" he asked.

I thought about it for a second, my arms falling to my sides, then I nodded my head. It was a jerky motion, and it made my temples throb with the beginning of a headache. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and the wounds I'd sustained were beginning to catch up to me.

This thug-sounding robot didn't say anything else. He just nodded his understanding and in a few graceful twirls, almost like dancing, he was back into vehicle mode.

My car.

I hesitated a moment, glancing around, and then climbed inside the open driver's seat door. Though I was wary, I still settled into the seat and pulled on the seatbelt.

_"__Don't worry. I'll go slow this time. Barricade ain't comin' back for now._"

The sound of his voice through my radio made me flinch, but I just nodded and sat back, letting my car do all of the driving. I couldn't even process everything that happened, and instead stared at the steering wheel in front of me, watched it move and twist hypnotically of its own accord.

Robots. Cars. Cops. I fell into a trance and shut out the world so I could think.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_"__Yo. . . anyone home?" _

That voice from the radio again. I started violently, yanked from my trance, and I looked around frantically. My mind cleared and I realized that I was just in my driveway, sitting in my car. My talking car. That was actually a robot.

_"__You. . . a'ight?"_

"What?" I murmured stupidly, staring around the car.

Unending patience met my befuddled state. _"You don't seem a'ight. You stressin' an awful lot. We pr'y don't got much time, though. We gotta head out soon."_

I took a breath and turned my gaze to my dashboard. "What do you mean?"

_"__We gotta go to Nevada."_

There was a moment's pause while my brain tried to understand. It never did. "What?"

The robot sighed, but not impatiently. _"I was hoping I coulda introduced m'self at a better time. . . I was 'fraid this'd happen._"

I rubbed my palms against my face and took two deep breaths—in through my nose, out through my mouth. My whole body hurt like I was just one big living bruise. I couldn't think straight and though questions burned inside me, I knew I needed to sort some things first.

"You should take me to a hospital," I sighed.

_"__Naw you ain't hurt that bad. I'm not Ratchet but I can tell tha' much."_

"Ratchet?"

_"__Never mind. Why don't ya go inside? Clean up, eat something. Pack a bag._"

He was talking too fast and not making any sense. "Pack?"

_"__We. . . gotta go to Nevada."_

"Why?"

_"__To meet the rest of my team."_ I was impressed he was managing any kind of patience with me right then. I was running out of patience for myself.

My mind reeled and I leaned back in my seat. "Team?"

_"__Ye'h. We got stuff t'do. I'll explain on the way."_

Even though it didn't make any sense to me, I was on autopilot. I nodded my understanding and climbed out of my not-car, making the trek to my front door. I struggled with my keychain until I found the house key—the copy we made for me was pink leopard print that had faded from use over the years.

I glanced once more back to the car. It sat there like it always did, as if nothing unusual had just happened. But I knew. There was nothing normal about that car anymore. It was eerie.

Once inside, I tossed my purse on the couch and ignored the loud ringing my phone was doing inside it. I would look at my phone later. I would deal with the consequences of running from a police officer later.

Sure, it hadn't been a _real_ police officer, but no one else knew that. I'm sure _someone_ called the police department one town over to tell them all about it, though.

So someone was sure to come investigate.

I walked past the kitchen and up the stairs to the bathroom, wanting a serious shower after being thrown from a car into the dirt and then batted around like a kitten bats around a ball of yarn. I was dusty and probably bloody in places, but I stopped and stared at the kitchen, realizing just how hungry I was.

I hadn't managed to get to the grocery store after all. There wasn't much to eat now, but I knew there might not be enough time to eat anyway. The cops were probably on the way to my house now.

Later. I'd eat after my shower. Maybe I would just eat the peanut butter and call it a day. Maybe I'd overlooked something in the pantries.

The only thing I wished was that I could take a longer shower, but the talking robot said we were in a hurry. Showers were one of the only times I could really be by myself and have no other distractions. I could think freely in the shower and maybe try to make some sense out of this situation.

I used the time I did have to look over my body. There were even more scratches than I thought, and my hips and shoulders were going to be discolored for weeks. The arm Barricade had hit—twice—was sore and I could barely lift it high enough to wash my hair. Everything on that side from my shoulder down to the bottom of my ribs was a horrific purple-red color with a green fringe. With the adrenaline now gone, I could feel it all.

And it all _hurt_.

The hot water helped to ease the pain a bit, but it also drew out a soreness from other parts of my body I didn't even know were injured—like my wrists and my ankles.

I turned the water as hot as it would go without burning me too badly and just stood underneath the torrent, head bowed. My car was a robot. Or possessed _by_ a robot. Though my bet geared more toward my car being _replaced_ by a robot. So then what happened to my real Camry? Had it been destroyed?

But wait. This robot—it just expected me to go to Nevada with it? Sure it—or he—hadn't really done anything to hurt me. He'd even _saved _me. However, could I really just go on some weird road trip without an explanation?

Over the sound of the shower head I thought I heard some sirens in the distance. Were they really already on their way, or was I just imagining things?

All the same, I hopped out of the shower and hurried to dress my wounds.

I rummaged through the whole house until I found the stash of bandaids my mom kept in her bathroom and put them everywhere I could reach, save for a few scrapes and scratches on my back. Those I had to stretch for and that just hurt too much.

Instead, I just put a shirt I didn't mind getting bloody on underneath another shirt. I ended up putting on my loosest-fitting jeans: anything tighter and it just made my legs hurt.

Should I pack? I actually started to, but then I realized how stupid that was. To just take what this robot told me at face value without any real explanation. The shower had cleared my head, the pain killers I'd taken were starting to kick in, and I was beginning to see how crazy this whole thing was.

No! No forget that! I was going to go downstairs and demand an explanation. If he didn't give me one, then I was just going to let the police take me and he could go by himself to Nevada for whatever it was he needed!

Obviously he didn't need me to drive him. He'd done plenty of that when he'd run from that insane cop car and then driven me home. What could he possibly want with me?

With my mind made up, I stormed down the stairs, but stopped short at the bottom.

If a cellphone could sound desperate, mine certainly did.

It was enough for me to lose my nerve. My shoulders sagged and I rubbed my hand over still-wet hair. I'd tossed it up on my head with a couple clips, and water still dripped down my temples from a shoddy attempt at drying. I hadn't even bothered with makeup this time.

I sighed and walked over to the couch and picked up the phone, swiping to answer. "Marie," I muttered, sickened by how meek my voice sounded.

Mikey was in the background crying. "Kat! Kat oh my god what happened? Where are you? Mrs. Cooper said that her husband saw you get pulled over by a cop! Then you drove away from him? What is going on are you okay? Are you in trouble!" I wasn't sure she'd even breathed during that whole speech.

I didn't know what to tell her. I fumbled over words and made incoherent sounds. The waterworks were threatening to turn on again and I knew Marie noticed.

"Oh my god Kat what happened? No one knows who that cop is. Did someone try to hurt you? Are you in trouble? Do I need to fly down there? I can get Brandon to take some time off school to watch Mikey and I can be there by tonight!" She stopped long enough to try to calm down her crying child.

Finally, I found my voice. "N-no. Everything's fine. I-it was my car. He just—the cop wanted to, uh, say—say that he was sorry about. . . my parents. And—and my car just. . . malfunctioned? And. . . it was my breaks. There was a hill and my breaks stopped working! Yes, and so it _looked_ like I was driving away from him but—but I wasn't. I just—my breaks just stopped working and he had to. . . to chase me down to. . . make sure I was okay."

I grimaced at the hack job I did to that story. Somewhere I'd gained a bit of confidence in it, but had lost it almost as quickly.

"That doesn't—what? So—it was your car? But Kat you've never had problems with that car before!" she insisted. "You sound like you're in trouble! Are you lying to me? Is he there with you now? Are you being _kidnapped?_"

Her voice had turned into a harsh whisper and I closed my eyes. "No, Marie. I'm not being kidnapped. It was my breaks, I swear."

She hesitated, then breathed a sigh of relief. "Well. Alright. But who was that cop? No one knows who would be driving around in a fancy sports car!"

"Well it was a muscle car but—"

"Kat!"

"How do you know all of this anyway?" I asked, clenching my eyes shut and rubbing my forehead. I didn't need this. Marie didn't need this. I could hear her in the background trying hard to calm down her upset son.

"Haven't you checked Facebook? Shh, Mikey—"

"Uh, no, I was busy getting home safely."

She sighed impatiently. "The neighbor kid got a picture of the cop pulling you over and no one's sure which precinct he came from. They don't have those cars at the police station and probably won't like, ever. Brandon thinks it might have been a state trooper that wandered into town but no one buys it."

"What does your husband know about that kinda thing?"

"He knows cars or something I don't know girl but it's crazy! What did you do?"

"Nothing!" I insisted. "I told you! It was just some cop trying to make nice! I guess he somehow heard about my parents or something Marie I don't know!"

"Kat why are you so—"

I sighed and sank onto my couch. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just. . . so stressed out right now."

"I know, I know. Sorry. I'm being unbearable. I just—everyone's freaking out because no one can find the cop you were seen with. So you might have cops coming for you." Mikey had finally stopped crying but he was still making gurgling noises.

I took a deep breath. "I'll just have to tell them what happened."

There was a pause and I assumed she was nodding her head. "Keep me posted okay?"

"For sure. . . yeah, sure."

Now I could definitely hear sirens in the distance. I swallowed hard and my heart started to pound. "I gotta go. I think I can hear the cops coming."

"Good luck!" I heard Marie say before I hung up on her.

The sirens were maybe three blocks away. It was now or never. Go with the robot and deal with whatever baggage he had, or let the cops take me and try to explain myself without sounding like a lunatic.

Which was the lesser of two evils? I'd just go outside and make that decision myself.

But when I stepped outside, phone and purse in hand, the car-robot wasn't in the driveway where I'd left it. My heart dropped to my stomach, then lifted higher than before. I was actually sort of relieved that he wasn't there.

However, that meant that I had to deal with the cops. Maybe they'd take it easy on me when they couldn't find the cop. If they couldn't find the robot-cop, then it would just be my word against. . . well no one's word. I'd just explain it the way I'd explained it to Marie. Then they'd have to let me go.

I heard just one cop car, though I wasn't sure why I expected the whole squad to show up. I guess I just thought my day was already shitty enough, the only thing more shitty would be if the whole police force came to get me.

I walked to the edge of the sidewalk to wait for Sheriff Jensen, the officer that usually came into town to deal with issues. He was usually a pretty reasonable guy, I felt I could talk my way out of any trouble. It was Jensen who had pulled me over to tell me about my parents, so I knew he'd understand.

At least, I _hoped_ it was Sheriff Jensen. What if it _was_ the robot-cop? The robot that had saved me said he wouldn't come back, but why? How did he know?

Before the officer showed up, a strange silver Pontiac Sunbird pulled up in front of me. I looked at it for a moment, then took a double take. It looked just like the one down the road. Was someone coming to check on me personally?

The driver's side door opened and there was no one in it. I took a step back, my eyes wide, and my breath caught in my throat.

_"__Get in! Wait, why ain't you packed?"_ the radio demanded.

Bewildered, I took a step back. "Wh—what?"

_"__It's me! I changed forms so they wouldn' be lookin' fer yo' car."_

My mouth fell open and I turned to look down the street. I could see the cop car starting to come into view, lights flashing. "But—no! No I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!" I tried not to shout, but it was hard.

The car's engine revved angrily and the side of the car shifted. _"We ain't got time fer this, little miss."_

Gears clicked and whirred as the side of the car shifted, and then the robot's four-fingered hand snatched out faster than I could comprehend. I had just enough time to gasp and take a surprised step backward before his fingers grabbed me around my torso.

In one fell swoop, I was yanked off of the sidewalk and thrust into the car's seat. I smelled burning rubber as the now-Sunbird took off down the road. The panic was back, gripping my chest, and I once again frantically tried to roll down windows, open the door, hold down the breaks. . . nothing worked. Just like before.

_"__Quit it."_

"No! Let me out!" I hissed, leaning back and kicking the dashboard with both of my feet.

The car shook. _"Hey! Hey that hurts!"_

"Then let! Me! Out!" I punctuated each word with a vicious kick.

The seatbelt struck like a snake, wrapping me tightly and strapping me down to the driver's side seat. I struggled against it and snarled incoherently for a time.

_"__Now please! Jus' calm down, a'ight? I _am not_ gonna hurt ya! This is for yo' own protection, 'k?_" he said. He was cruising through the streets without a second thought for speed or the rules of the road and I could already see the I-90 exit up ahead.

"Tell me what's going on! _Now_!"

He groaned loudly and swerved slightly out of frustration. _"Name's Jazz. We call ourselves Autobots. We're from the planet Cybertron_."

It was enough for me to relax ever so slightly. When I did, the seatbelt acting as a restraint loosened just enough for me to straighten up in my seat and sit properly. "'Planet'? You're. . . an alien?"

_"__Ye'h, s'pose I am."_

I leaned back and stared out the windshield at the sky. It was a little overcast, threatening rain, but it hadn't yet spilled any water. It had been like that for days. "So. . . what do you want with me?"

_"__M'leader sent me here to protect ya from the Decepticons."_

"Decepti-what?"

_"__Decepticons. They from Cybertron too but they bad. Yo' ancestor, uh, Sam Walker, met us in space years and years ago. At first he thought the Decepticons were good and we was the bad guys. However, their current leader Starscream betrayed them and our leader, Optimus Prime, saved 'em."_

I shook my head and rubbed my forehead. So many names, so little time. It took intense focus for me to keep up with him. Starscream bad, Optimus Prime good. Got it. "Sam Walker? Like—like my great-great-grandpa? He was in space? Doing what?"

_"__I 'unno. Space travel stuff I guess."_

"Helpful."

_ "__Anyway. When Starscream almost killed Optimus, Walker and his crew crippled Starscream and sacrificed their lives. Optimus thought we better protect you from Starscream's wrath. He's kinda cruel, y'know? Figured he come after the descendants of the crew_."

Revenge? I was being targeted by an alien race because of something my great-great-grandpa had done like a hundred years ago? Fantastic.

"But—then are we going to go find the other people and protect them, too?" I asked.

Was I just the first stop on this robot's long list of people that needed protecting?

_"__You the only surviving relative of any of the crew members_."

I sighed and rubbed my forhead. Imagine that. "What about. . . my mom's family? I have cousins and aunts and uncles and stuff."

There was a short pause. I waited patiently for an answer, wondering what he was thinking about. Or if he was looking up something. Could he even do that? _"Naw they on yo' mom's side. Starscream wouldn't bother."_

Again, I shook my head. I'd worry about that later. I sighed and pushed my bangs out of my face. "Okay whatever. How'd you learn to speak English?"

_"__Internet."_

Hmph. That was almost too simple. "Alright then. . . ."

_"__Feel better?"_

"No but—well I mean yeah but—it's just. . . so much to take in." I leaned back in my seat and the belt loosened ever further, falling slack. It was almost just a normal seatbelt now instead of a restraint.

Alien robots. Some sort of feud. My great-great-grandpa. My head was spinning as it tried to process all of it.

"You promise you're not going to hurt me?" I asked, eyes narrowed slightly.

_"__I wouldn' dream of it, little miss. Optimus forbade us to hurt humans."_

I nodded and swallowed hard. He hadn't done anything to make me feel like he was lying, but I wasn't sure I trusted him a hundred percent yet.

_"__Ye'h. . . I'm sorry 'bout all this. I didn' want you to find out like ya did, y'know? I know we pr'y freaked you out a bit,"_ he apologized with a light sigh. We were cruising along the freeway now, the scenery flying past as a blur. _"Jus' rest now. We got a long drive 'head of us._"

"Right. . . to Nevada. . . for some reason."

_"__To meet the rest of my team."_

"Yeah. . . okay. But why?"

Ever so tentatively, I leaned forward and put my hands on the wheel. The alien robot—Jazz, I guess he said his name was—was still in control, but I felt like I needed to at least pretend I was driving so I didn't get any unwanted attention.

_"__There's this kid there. We think he might got something that could lead us to our power source."_ As if that explained the whole thing.

I tried to keep my eyes on the road while we talked. "Okay I'm gonna let that slide because I don't want to know what this power source is. What's it doing here on Earth?" I asked instead. Every answer he gave me just brought up more questions. Somewhere along this trip I was going to have to draw the line.

_ "__It's a long story."_

I sighed. "Yeah. . . I can imagine."

_ "__Why don't you rest a little bit, Kathryn? You still stressed. Just sit back and relax. I got this drive in the bag."_

"Kat," I corrected.

He paused a beat. _"There ain't no cat._"

Somehow, that managed to draw a smile out of me. "No—my name. Kat. It's short for Kathryn. I prefer being called Kat."

_"__Oh I got ya. A'ight, Kat. It's nice to meet ya."_

The smile remained for a little longer. "It's nice to meet you too, Jazz."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello readers!**

**Just cutting to say that this is it for the next couple days. Gotta get the next chapter ready for _Phantasm _and then I'll post up more!**

**I also wanted to say that a lot of Kat's story is based off the novel _Ghosts of Yesterday _by Alan Dean Foster. It was a book meant to be a prequel to the movie! Just thought I'd let everyone know. It was pretty good, I thought.**

**~Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Five<p>

"How long have you been pretending to be my car?" I asked, leaning against the center console. It had been about an hour since we started this little trip, and I'd given up pretending to drive for a while.

And I was starving.

_"'__Bout three days now."_

I considered that for a moment. "So whenever I'd go to my car, and it wasn't quite where I'd left it, that was you leaving?"

_"__Ye'h."_

"Where'd you go all the time?"

_"__Patrollin'. Y'know, makin' sure there weren't no Decepticons lurking 'round."_

I leaned back in my seat and pulled my phone out of my purse. When Jazz had grabbed me, all the contents had spilled out on to the floor and I'd had to rearrange the whole thing. Now it was sitting pretty on the passenger side seat. "Why is it so important? Like, so what if they killed me? Not that I want to die, mind you. . . just. . . why go through all of the trouble?"

_Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Kat. . . ._

Jazz paused for a moment. _"Well 'cuz Optimus and the rest of us feel bad, y'know? Like, we couldn't save them. He promised to get them back to Earth, and instead they died, y'know? This is like. His way of making amends._"

Righteous alien robots. Alright.

I pulled up Park City, Montana on my phone and Google Nav'd my way to Nevada. The app guessed it would take about 15 hours and some odd minutes to get to Nevada, but when it calculated how fast we were moving, it approximated us arriving in less than that.

A lot less.

Like "you will arrive at your destination in eight hours" less.

My eyes widened and I looked up at the speedometer. The little dial was pointing only to eighty, but that didn't really correspond with how fast the scene was zipping past us. And the fact that we were already coming up on Bozeman, which was regularly a two hour drive.

If I wanted to, I could have pulled off and went to see Marie. But I didn't want to drag her into any of this and it would just bring up more questions I didn't want to answer.

"Jazz how fast are you going?" I demanded.

_"__Fast enough."_

"Jazz. . . ."

He chuckled and I could only imagine he'd be shaking his head. If he wasn't a car. _"Don' worry little miss. We won' get pulled over or nothin'."_

"I'm more worried about _other people_. How's your defensive driving? If someone breaks suddenly. . . or cut us off. . . I just. . . we could really get hurt." I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, unable to say why hurtling down the road actually bothered me.

However, Jazz seemed to understand. He fell quiet for a brief moment, but the car started to slow down. The speedometer never went past eighty, and I assumed he just let it stick there so I wouldn't freak out. Like I wouldn't find out he was probably moving over a hundred miles an hour down the freeway.

I closed my eyes in relief and sank into my chair a little bit.

_"__Sorry. We got time to take it slow I s'pose."_

A smile managed to flutter across my lips. It was without humor, more like in relief. "Thank you. I'm sorry. It's not that—"

_"__Naw. I get it. You're parents and all that."_

Though I wasn't sure if he could see me, I nodded my head. I closed my eyes and tried not to get too emotional, then I suddenly sat up straight and look around frantically. "My parents—you knew about my parents?"

_"__Y'eh course. I feel real bad I couldn' be here to save them, y'know? Bu' I promise I won' ever let anything bad happen to ya_."

I shook my head. "No—yeah that's fine. Thanks but—the people who hit them, with their car. Like, they said that they lost control suddenly. Does—does that mean that. . . do you think it was. . . ?"

Jazz was silent for a moment and I thought I could hear a light buzzing. I opened my mouth to ask, but decided to stay quiet. Maybe he was checking on something.

_"__I dunno Kat. Maybe. I'll find out."_

My heart beat rapidly in my chest. Had one of those bad aliens possessed that car? Or switched? Jazz obviously had the capability to change the appearance of the car he was, wouldn't these other robots? Had my parents actually been killed by them? Or was it really just a freak accident?

"Can you stop somewhere?" I asked, rubbing my forehead.

He considered it for a few heartbeats, then said _"Ye'h. You ain't eaten yet have ya?"_

I shook my head, but that wasn't the only reason why I wanted to stop. "No I didn't get the chance before you grabbed me."

_"__Heh," _he hummed, actually sounding chagrined. _"Ye'h sorry 'bout tha'."_

Sighing, I turned to look out of the window. I'd meant to grab something to eat, but had wound up forgetting completely. "Not your fault. Not your fault."

*:･ﾟ✧

Thirty missed calls. Ten voice mails. Fifteen text messages.

I sat back against the tank of the toilet I sat on. We'd pulled off the freeway at the first sign of food and Jazz dropped me off at a Wendy's. I had wanted to deal with the repercussions of this whole thing, but now that I saw how much of it I'd been ignoring, I kind of just wanted to continue ignoring my phone.

But I knew I couldn't.

So, before getting food—despite how freaking hungry I was—I hid in the bathroom to deal with the people trying to contact me.

All of the text messages were the same.

_Call me when you can._

_What's up with you?_

_Please call ASAP!_

I skimmed through the messages, replied with the same stock message—_I'm fine, I'll contact you later._

Whether or not I would remained to be seen.

At the very least the voice mails were manageable. Most were from Marie, before I'd talked to her on the phone, so I auto-deleted about five of them. That left five more. The first one was from my boss.

_"__Hello Kathryn, it's Sharon! Just checking in! No need to call back, I just wanted to make sure you were okay._ _Hang in there! Talk to you in a few weeks."_

Deleted.

The next two were from the police department, Sheriff Jensen himself. _"Kathryn Walker this is Sheriff Jensen. Please call at your earliest convenience. You aren't in trouble, I promise. The number to call is—"_

Deleted. My hands were shaking.

_"__Kathryn Walker this is Sheriff Jensen. The officer in question hasn't shown up or called so there might not even be an incident to report, but please call at your earliest convenience. Thank you_. _The number is—_"

I took a deep breath and hit "call back". I couldn't ignore this. If I wanted any semblance of a life after this whole thing, I'd need to talk to the cops.

The phone rang three times before someone picked up. "Park City Sheriff's office."

"Yes—yes hello I need to talk to Sheriff Jensen. This is Kathryn Walker." My voice shook and I hunched over, my head turned slightly to the door. I wanted to know if anyone walked in and could overhear. So far the bathroom was empty.

"One moment please," the receptionist replied. I didn't recognize her voice.

After a little fumbling, the line went dead and was replaced with some hold music. I didn't remember there being hold music, but then again I hadn't ever really had the need to call the sheriff's office before.

A brief moment later, the line was picked up again. "Sheriff Jensen."

"Yes! Hello! Sheriff Jensen this is Kathryn Walker!"

"Ah yes hello Ms. Walker! I understand you ran into a strange police officer earlier today around five o'clock in the afternoon?" he asked. I could hear him shuffling papers.

I nodded. "Y-yes. Yes I did."

"Can you tell me what happened after he pulled you over?" I was glad he didn't sound accusatory, just curious.

A deep breath to steady my nerves. "Well I just—I was going to the grocery store. It—he pulled up behind me and turned on his lights, so I pulled over, y'know? And then he—he pulled up alongside me and just—asked if I was okay, yknow?"

"Did he say anything else?" Jensen asked.

I shook my head. "N-no. We didn't have time to. . . say much because my—I accidentally shifted out of park and—my breaks failed and then I. . . started slipping and then he had to chase me down."

He waited for me to continue, but when I didn't he urged me on. "What happened next, Kathryn? Tell me everything."

Shit, I hadn't thought this far into the story. I floundered for an explanation, for something that would make sense. I was sure I sounded nervous, I just hoped he wouldn't assume I was nervous because I was lying. "N-nothing. He just checked that—that everything was okay. That I wasn't hurt or anything. I—I crashed through the cemetery gate but—but I was ok. So he—he reconnected the break line for me and then wished me a good day and left!"

Sheriff Jensen paused and I could hear him scribbling down the highlights of my story. I just hoped he bought it, but I was certain that particular robot wasn't going to be coming back to make an official statement. This story I was spinning would be the only story.

Except maybe from the eyewitnesses, but there hadn't been anyone around on Cemetery Road to attest to the authenticity of my story. If there were, my phone would have much different messages on it.

"Okay. Can you describe the car and the officer to me?" he asked.

I nodded even though he couldn't see. "It was like, a new Mustang or something. Normal. . . decal and stuff. Black. Um—he was maybe forty? With a bushy moustache and big black sunglasses. I couldn't see his face because of them. And he had a hat but his moustache was brown?" The details were fuzzy, but what did that matter? It hadn't been a real person.

Jensen hummed his understanding. "Did you see his nametag or his badge number?"

"No sir. Has—has he really not shown up? You really don't know who he was?" I asked. At least halfway through the conversation I'd managed to stop my voice from trembling.

"No," he sighed. I heard his chair squeak as he shifted. "I've called all the other stations in town and the next one over but no one knows who this guy is. He might not have been a cop, which means you are extremely lucky he wasn't trying to hurt you."

He didn't know the half of it and I couldn't stop the dry chuckle that slipped through. "Yeah. I guess so."

"Well Ms. Walker, that's all I really needed from you. I'm sorry I missed you at home though and we had to do this by phone." He seemed sincere, and if he didn't buy my story, he wasn't letting it show. But why wouldn't he? I'd never done anything to get in trouble in my life.

Except for the cookies incident but that was it.

"No—No that's fine. I—I had to leave. There was. . . some family emergency with my relatives and they wanted me to drive down. Something—about my mom's parents I think, so I'll be out of town for a little while." I made it up on the spot. I'd need an excuse to be away for however long Jazz was going to keep me.

Jensen's chair squeaked again. "Is everything okay? I hope it's nothing serious, that's the last thing you need."

I swallowed hard and forced a smile. People could tell when you were smiling through your voice, right? That's what my mom always told me. Though that advice had been mostly for picking up the phone at work or calling about job interviews. "No, yeah. Everything's okay, I think—they just need some papers or something signed or. . . something I don't know."

"You sure you're okay to drive that car with the breaks?" he asked.

I mentally kicked myself and closed my eyes. It was a moment before I could speak and then I just shrugged. "I gotta do it, y'know? I'll stop at a hotel for the night and then get it checked out first thing in the morning."

"That's probably a good idea Ms. Walker. You take it easy and drive safe, okay?"

"I will sir, thank you."

"Have a good day now."

"You too."

I hung up the phone and released a shaky breath, leaning back and closing my eyes. My palm rested against my forehead and I just took a couple minutes to still my heart. I'd managed to dodge at least one bullet.

Someone walked in a few seconds later and I held my breath. While I waited for them to leave, I just kind of sat there and rummaged around with the various things in the stall, trying to look busy. I didn't know why. When they finally did leave, I flicked through the rest of the voice mails. The last two were from neighbors, and I just deleted those without listening to them.

Facebook, I was going to avoid like the plague. Maybe for the rest of my life.

When I thought I was okay, I left the bathroom and called Marie to tell her the same story about visiting my grandparents. That should have covered all of my bases. Hopefully she wouldn't realize I was at a Wendy's ten miles from her apartment.

*:･ﾟ✧

Jazz was still waiting for me in the same parking spot I'd left him in, forty minutes later. I felt bad for making him wait, but what was the hurry? There were things I'd had to take care of. He was lucky I'd even come around to this whole idea and not called in the national guard to save me.

The way I figured it, though, he really didn't mean me any harm. He'd been nothing but nice to me, and _patient_ while I came to terms with my situation.

Why not give him a chance?

Even as I thought that, though, I still considered escaping through the back and making a run for it. I dismissed it quickly, though, and just climbed inside the not-car.

_"__Hey you back. Was beginnin' ta think you'd try to run again."_

I closed the door once my feet were inside and I tossed my purse back into the passenger side's seat. I'd eaten inside, so I just put my refilled Coke in the cup holder next to me. "Run where? We've already gone like a hundred miles. There's nowhere for me _to_ go."

_"__S'pose that's true."_ He pulled out of the parking space and headed for the freeway again. _"You could'a eaten in here if ya wanted to."_

"I dunno, maybe." I closed my eyes and sighed. Something about eating inside an alien entity kind of creeped me out, though. It was kind of weird sitting in one at all, even if it_ was_ just like sitting in a car. "I needed some quiet time by myself to think anyway."

_"__I gotcha._"

We sat in silence for a little while, the radio playing quietly. We'd long since passed the signal of my favorite station, but I didn't really feel like messing with the dials so I just dealt with the rap station I'd changed to after pushing a whole two buttons.

I wasn't listening, anyway. I was a million miles away, lost in thought. Now that the initial shock had died down, and now that my body wasn't quite in so much pain after being an alien robot's plaything, I could think straight. I wasn't afraid of Jazz anymore, and that was probably a good thing since he was my interstellar body guard.

But I was worried. What if the realtor tried to call me sometime? I could maybe put off her call for a few days, but I needed to sell that house. Even if I did, though. . . would I even be able to return to a normal life after all of this?

What about the government? Did they know about the aliens? I was certain they probably did, so how long until they tracked me down?

_"__You a'ight little miss?"_

I jumped at the sound of his voice over the radio and turned to stare at my dashboard. "Why do you talk like that?" I asked, careful to keep my voice curious.

_"__Like what?"_

"Y'know—like you do. With the slang and like you're a gangster. . . and. . . ." I shut up before I made a fool of myself any more than I already had.

If he was offended though, he didn't show it. Instead, he just chuckled. _"Told ya. I learned yo' language off da internet. Yo' culture's so facinatin' I guess I couldn' help but pick up a few things, y'know wha' I mean?"_

My lips twisted into a sheepish grin. "Yeah I guess so."

_"__Do it bother ya?"_

"No no not at all. I was just wondering, that's all. Just. . . used to movies portraying aliens as. . . more formal in speech. I didn't expect an alien to sound so. . . ."

_"__Human?"_

I thought about that for a moment, taking in a deep breath. It sounded kind of. . . rude when he put it like that. "Yeah. . . I mean I guess. I thought with you being a robot, too, you'd sound more. . . robotic. Like, _beep boop, I am a robot._" It was a sad attempt at a robot impersonation, but close enough.

Jazz let out a rolling laugh and I couldn't help but smile, too. _"Naw, naw. Nothing like that little miss."_

"Sorry," I giggled. "I hope I'm not being insensitive."

_"__Not at all."_

Another comfortable silence settled in around us and the radio turned itself up. Or really, Jazz turned it up. Probably to fill the gap between conversation. Outside the sun had almost been swallowed by the horizon. We still had a long way to go, but I was glad that Jazz was taking it slow instead of cruising along at break-neck speeds.

It gave me time to prepare for the oncoming meeting.

"What did you do with my real car?" I asked after about half an hour of sitting in silence. I'd changed the station to classic rock and had been playing Angry Birds on my phone to pass the time, though I didn't have my charger with me and I knew it would die soon.

He hesitated in answering and that made me nervous. "Jazz?"

_"__I'll tell ya but don' get mad, k?"_

"I can't make that promise," I groaned.

There was another moment's hesitation, then he sighed. _"It in da river 'bout fifteen miles from yo' town."_

My eyes closed and I leaned my head back against the seat rest, rubbing my forehead with my hand. I groaned loudly, but tried not to get _too_ mad about it. The car was old, I'd intended to buy a newer one sooner or later. "Oh Jazz. . . what am I supposed to do when all of this is over?"

_"__I'll be yo' car! Until Starscream dead, I'll be ya guardian. Then, if ya want me to leave after yer safe, I'll stick 'round 'till ya get a new car,"_ he offered. He really did sound apologetic.

I just sighed and let my hand drop to my lap. "I'll hold you to that."

_"__Autobot's honor_."

The corner of my mouth twitched up into a begrudging smirk. "Is that supposed to be like a scout's honor?"

_"__You could call it tha'."_

I just shook my head and turned the radio up once more. I took out my phone and fired up Angry Birds, but my phone beeped at me to put it on the charger. I sighed and glanced at the back seat, wishing that I'd been able to pack some stuff before I left.

But I hadn't really been convinced I wanted to go on this trip in the first place.

I leaned forward and turned the radio down again. "Hey Jazz?"

_"__Ye'h?"_

"I need you to stop at the next Wal-Mart you see. . . I didn't have time to pack so I need to buy a few things, if you don't mind." I hoped I wasn't distracting him from driving with all of these questions and requests.

_"__Sure thing little miss. I told ya to pack though."_

Sighing, I smiled ruefully. "I know. But. . . I don't know I was still freaked out and I was actually coming outside to tell you to leave me alone and go away when you grabbed me."

He was quiet for a moment. _"Why?"_

Let me count the ways. I lifted my hand and rubbed my forehead. "I was attacked by a giant robot posed as a cop car. My car—the car my _mom_ had since she was my age—suddenly turned into _another_ giant robot. Did you know my whole side is a giant bruise? The last thing I wanted to do was go on some strange adventure with a strange robot."

Jazz was quiet for a little bit. Long enough that I started to feel bad for being so blunt. I sighed and turned toward the dashboard. "I'm sorry—"

_"__Naw it's fair, little miss. It kinda happened pretty quick, didn' it?"_

I sighed. "Yeah. Real fast."

He seemed a little disgruntled when he next spoke, but he also sounded the most serious I'd heard him so far. _"I'm real sorry ya got hurt, though. I _promise_ that it won't happen again. I swear it."_

It made me feel a little uneasy and I smiled at the dashboard, still unsure if he could see me—I had a feeling he could, though. "Jazz it's alright. . . I didn't really make it easy. . . I was freaking out and I didn't know you were there to help me. I'm not saying it's _your_ fault that I got hurt. . . just. . . don't worry about it, okay?"

_"__Don' matter. It won't happen again._"

"Alright. . . ."

Whether he forced the cheer into his voice or not, it was there when he next spoke. _"There's a Wal-Mart 'bout thirty miles away. You good 'till then?" _he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine until then." I turned the radio back up, then leaned back into my seat and tried to enjoy the scenery passing by, but there wasn't a whole lot to look at this far into Montana. I just had to remember to put my eyes up front if someone passed by.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello readers!**

**Here's a couple more chapters. More road trip fun haha. The good part's are coming. Maybe. ;D **

**~ Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Six<p>

My phone was plugged into the car lighter, I had a bag of fresh clothes sitting on the back seat, and I'd bought a travel size toothbrush along with travel size toothpaste. I was feeling loads better about this whole thing and had almost forgotten a crazy, killer alien robot wanted me dead. Almost. My bladder was empty and I'd bought a box of donuts for my breakfast in the morning.

The sun had set long before I'd made it out of the Wal-Mart, and with everything winding down I was beginning to feel exhausted. The painkillers I'd taken that afternoon were starting to wear off, so the aches and pains were starting to come back. I sighed and took out the half-empty bottle of Aspirin from my purse and popped a couple pills, washing them down with the bottle of water I'd purchased. My eyes were hard to hold up, and more than once I'd almost fallen asleep at the wheel.

_"__Ya can get some sleep, y'know."_

I shook my head and sat up a little straighter. So he could see me. At least I'd finally stopped getting startled by his voice coming in through my radio. Maybe I was accustomed to this whole situation now. "No—I can't sleep. What if someone sees?" I rubbed my eye with one hand. "I don't want people to freak out."

_"__Naw we won' get caught. It dark out an' my windows're tinted. 'Sides there ain't no one on the road,"_ he assured me. As if to assert his point, my seat fell back abruptly, forcing me to make an embarrassing sound of distress.

"Jazz!"

_"__Sorry, didn' mean ta startle ya."_ I could hear the laughter in his voice.

I sat up a little bit and furrowed my brow. "Whatever. It doesn't matter anyway. I've never been able to sleep in cars. The seats don't go back all the way and the back seat is always too cramped and tilted weird. And now I have all of these bruises. . . I'll never get comfortable."

There was a moment of silence, and then Jazz spoke again. _"Don' freak out, k? An' don't move too much."_

"About what?"

The question had barely enough time to leave my lips before my seat jerked. I gasped and twisted around slightly at first, but fearing that I would injure myself, I flattened out and drew my knees against my chest, making myself as small as possible. The seat twisted and spun. I closed my eyes when I heard the metallic whir and click of gears and pieces coming together.

Then, the seat laid back flat—completely horizontal, and everything fell still.

_"__How's'at?"_ he asked, sounding entirely too proud of himself.

I opened my eyes and looked around, then sat up and stared unabashed, mouth wide open. The entire interior of the car had turned into a makeshift bed. The front seat and the backseats had been rearranged to lie flat and right up against each other.

Once the awe abated, I rounded a glare onto the dashboard. "Jazz! Don't you _ever_ do that again without a proper warning!"

He chuckled quietly. _"Sorry, sorry."_

Though I wasn't entirely convinced he meant it, I decided that was as good as it was going to get. I huffed quietly and then tried to settle into the bed he had so graciously made me.

_"__Sorry I don't got no blankets,"_ he apologized, sounding more sincere this time.

"It's fine. The heat works right? That'll be good enough," I assured him. I was still a little breathless from the event, but my heart beat was starting to return to normal. "How did you do this, anyway? Can you do it whenever?"

_"__Pre'y much. Mean, my choices're limited if I want my exterior to stay the same,"_ he explained. "_It ain't no thang, though. Didn't pinch ya or nothin', did I?"_

"No—no I'm fine it's just—it was weird. Really weird," I muttered, lying back down on my side. The Sunbird wasn't big enough for me to lie flat without lying diagonally, so I turned so I could stretch out my limbs and lie down. "You sure it's okay?"

Jazz sounded confident when he replied. "_Ye'h. No one'll notice. Promise."_

"How long until we're there?" I asked, taking it at face value. If he thought that no one would notice that the driver of the car was sleeping but somehow not crashing, then who was I to argue? And I was tired, anyway. I'd been through trauma and a half, and I probably had a ton more ahead of me.

There was a short pause before he answered. I assumed he was calculating or something. _"Well, we would'a been there pr'y early morning, but you made me drive at _reasonable speeds_ so. . . pr'y be there late morning instead. Like nine or ten or somethin'."_

I lied my head down on the two new shirts I'd bought and closed my eyes. "Okay. See you when I wake up."

_"__Night, little miss."_

*:･ﾟ✧

Somehow, through the bruises and instant replays in my mind, I fell asleep. My dreams were wrought with giant robots, glowing eyes, and spaceships exploding, but only slightly unsettling dreams, not quite nightmares. I felt safe with Jazz, and after being emotionally drained by my parent's death I was too exhausted not to fall asleep.

I rose with the sun after a night of fitful tossing and turning. I'd woken up after each dream, it seemed, and each time Jazz always asked if I was okay. He kept the car at a comfy 74 degrees, and it always lulled me back to sleep. The seats had been comfortable enough, at least, but when I finally did wake up to greet the day, I was stiff and sore around my bruises.

After Jazz made certain I had gotten enough sleep, I was blessed to take that _fun_ ride of twisting seats and whirring, clanking gears. It made me just as uneasy as the last time, but he took it slower instead of just throwing everything together like he had the night before.

"Does that hurt?" I asked after getting settled in and putting on my seatbelt. Something that noisy had to hurt, right?

_"__Naw. I mean—changing yo' clothes don' hurt, do it?" _

"Well, no I guess not, but I think moving my arm to my back and putting my head in my chest might hurt," I retorted.

Jazz scoffed. _"Tha's 'cause yo' body ain't meant to do it."_

"Yeah I guess."

There was a moment's pause and then I asked, "Where are we, anyway?"

He hummed thoughtfully. _"We hit Nevada 'bout twenty miles ago."_

My next question stuck in my throat for a few minutes before I managed to work up the courage to ask. I stalled by rubbing sleep from my eyes, then fidgeted with my fingers. "Can you pull over at the next country road for me?"

_"__Sure little miss but why?"_ he said after a moment's hesitation.

I pursed my lips and refused to look at the dashboard. "Just pull off somewhere no one will see us," I muttered in a small voice.

_"__Kat?"_

"Well," I sighed. "I just. . . traffic'll get bad soon and I was just hoping that. . . well I wanted to see. . . the _real_ you. Y'know. When I'm not terrified you're going to kill me."

To my chagrin, he just laughed at me. _"Ye'h a'ight I can do that."_

*:･ﾟ✧

Even though I'd requested it, I felt increasingly nervous as Jazz exited the freeway and drove down the uneven country road. He drove until we passed some trees, and then he pulled off the road and wedged himself in a nice little grove.

My door opened and I gathered up my things real quick before climbing out. My stomach was knotted with all kinds of emotions, but I tried to keep it together.

_"__Stand back now,"_ Jazz advised.

He didn't need to tell me twice. I skipped back a few paces and clutched my armful of belongings to my chest. My hands were shaking, though I wasn't entirely sure why. "Okay I'm ready now."

The Jazz-Sunbird vibrated with laughter. _"Why so nervous?"_

I shook my head. "Don't make fun of me just change!"

He laughed for a few more seconds, and then the car shifted. The wheels first extended outward, and then in a flurry of graceful twists and turns quite akin to a breakdance, Jazz changed from car to robot before my eyes. I found myself hugging my belongings tight enough to my chest that my bruises hurt.

It was all over in a few blinks of the eye. The whirring and clicking finished as a few stray pieces of machinery fell into place, and then Jazz kneeled down in front of me, one arm resting on his propped-up knee. "So?"

Slowly I started to relax my shoulders. I was aware my mouth was open slightly, but I wasn't able to close it just yet. Instead I just leaned down slightly to put my things on the ground. Jazz cocked his head to one side, but didn't say anything even as I slowly approached him, kind of shuffling sideways.

Jazz's shoulders shook as he rumbled a laugh. "What're you doin'?"

"Shh," I murmured, lifting my hand and extending my arm toward him. I moved closer again and turned my palm up slightly. Jazz looked amused—well, I thought anyway. It was a little hard to tell with his facial structure—and then extended his arm just a little bit to meet me, lifting a single finger.

Finally, I closed my mouth to swallow the lump in my throat and let my palm run over the smooth metal of his finger. He was a lot smaller than the black car that attacked me, probably fifteen feet. One of his fingers was just a little longer than my forearm. The metal he was made out of was warm to the touch, but not burning. Even though he had been white like my Camry, he was now the same dull silver of the Sunbird he'd changed into.

"Am I still bein' quiet?" he whispered.

I smiled and shook my head. I stepped up a little closer and straightened my back, then looked away from his arm and up to his face. His head reminded me of a bird, kind of. Triangular and with a set of "tufts" like a horned owl. Maybe closer to horns. He had a pair of bright blue lights functioning as "eyes" and no real discernable mouth, but if he spoke, the parts on his face moved like he had one.

"What's this?" I asked, motioning for him to lean down. He complied and I brushed my fingers against an insignia imprinted on his forehead. It looked like a little square robotic face.

He sat up a bit and touched the spot himself. For a brief second it seemed like he wasn't sure what I meant, but then it dawned on him and he nodded. "It like our flag, y'know? All Autobots got this somewhere on 'em."

"And the Decepticons?"

"Theirs is different. Looks shaper." He turned away and dragged his finger across the dirt, drawing the insignia he was talking about. It was a triangular face instead, and it looked a little bit angry.

I nodded and memorized the differences so I wouldn't mistake an enemy for a friend. Especially when the enemy wanted me dead.

Jazz leaned back until he thumped on the ground into a sitting position. "Did'ja see what ya need to see?" he asked, his head cocked to the side as he watched me examine the way the car's wheel wells made up his feet.

Looking up at him, I nodded. "Yeah. . . yeah. I think so. I just. . . sorry."

He chuckled and leaned toward me. "Why you 'pologizing?"

"I. . . I dunno. Sorry."

Another rumbling chuckle. "Knock that off. You ain't got nothing to 'pologize for."

Heat flushed my face and I averted my gaze, nodding. "I know, so. . . my bad. I just don't know what else to say. It's just—I can't believe you're real, I guess."

"Very real, little miss."

My face fell and I sighed. "Yeah." If he was real, then that meant the danger was very real. Not just to me, but probably to the whole world.

"What's wrong?" he asked after I fell quiet.

I looked up and filled my lungs with air, then shook my head and forced a smile. "Nothing. I was just thinking. I guess let's get back on with the journey," I suggesting, jogging back to my abandoned things and gathering them back up.

"If you say so little miss." His words were followed by the clicks and whirrs as he transformed back into his vehicle mode. I climbed in on the driver's side, stowed my stuff, then buckled in. Once I was settled, Jazz backed up onto the road and headed toward the freeway one more time.

*:･ﾟ✧

As I had expected, traffic was terrible once seven o'clock in the morning rolled around. I'd eaten the small box of squished donuts already, but my water was gone and I was getting thirsty, among other things.

This road trip had been going on for a total of thirteen hours. We probably would have been there already, but between stopping at the Wendy's and other places, being stuck in rush hour traffic just outside of a big city, we were going a little slow. It probably wouldn't have mattered if I'd just let Jazz drive as fast as he wanted to, but there was just something unsettling about hurtling down a major freeway at over a hundred miles an hour.

Both Jazz and I were not pleased with the traffic, either.

_"__Is it always like this?" _he asked after we'd been sitting at a stand-still for a little over an hour. He revved his engine impatiently and the person in front of us just flipped the bird. _"Oh did he just—"_

I shook my head. "Ignore it. It's only like this early on, and because we're so close to a city. Once we get out of the city, we'll be fine."

However, he still grumbled irritably to himself.

"Are we going to be late to your meeting?"

_"__Naw they won' be here 'till later tonight. We just gotta meet wit' my 'sociate and his charge before then," _he explained. At least talking seemed to take the edge off for him.

"There's another one of you here? And they have someone to protect?"

_"__Y'eh. Bumblebee and Sam. I don' think they been introduced yet, so maybe wit' another human to 'sociate with he'll take the news easier,"_ Jazz explained. Faint music played in the background while we spoke.

"Ah," I muttered with a sage nod. "So the game plan is me walking up and introducing myself, then telling him he should meet my new alien robot friend?"

_"__The game plan's whatever we make up on the fly, little miss."_

I couldn't help but sigh and rub my forehead. "I'll come up with something. I never was one for flying by the seat of my pants."

He chuckled at that, then growled when someone blared their horn behind us.

The conversation dwindled and it wasn't long before my boredom grew out of control. At some point I finally just asked Jazz to pull off so I could take care of hygiene and get something to drink. He was very accommodating, and if he was irritated by my bodily functions, he didn't let it show.

Still, I tried not to take up too much time. I headed into the first gas station we found with my toothbrush and toothpaste I'd bought. I was in and out of that kind of grungy gas station bathroom within ten minutes with clean teeth, and empty bladder, and some more snacks. Then I messed all of that tooth-brushing up by buying an iced coffee.

I would have changed my clothes, but decided that could wait until later in the day before I had to meet with these people of his.

_"__All set?"_ Jazz asked once I was safe inside his interior.

"Yeah," I said with a nod.

We sat in silence for a little while and I played all the games I had to play on my phone by the time we moved out of traffic. At that point we had been delayed another hour and a half on top of the fifteen or so minutes I was at the gas station, and we still had one hour to go before we reached this Tranquility town that Jazz told me about.

"Wanna play the alphabet game?" I asked out of the blue. I felt a little bad for kind of ignoring him, so thought I'd find a way to involve him in some fun.

_"__Wha's'at?"_ he asked, turning the music back down.

Shrugging, I pointed out a billboard. "See that sign? It has the word 'law' on it. Which has the letter A. All you do in the alphabet game is try to collect all of the letters in the alphabet. You can either do it collaboratively or competitively."

_"__So—either we work together t'find all the letters, or first one to get them all wins?"_ he clarified. _"And I assume we gotta do it in order?"_

"Exactly. If it's competitive, then you can't use the same letter twice. So if I pointed out the letter A on that billboard, then you can't call it out and use it." I smiled fondly as I explained the rules, and was taken way back to old road trips to visit family or go on vacation. There was the road kill game, I Spy, Slug Bug. . . . The alphabet game was a little less obnoxious than I Spy.

The road kill game was a little morbid, and he couldn't exactly slug me if we saw one a Volkswagen Beetle. I didn't think I'd _want_ him to, either.

Jazz seemed to think it over for a second before responding. _"Pr'y best t'play together. I pr'y got way better eyesight than you and it wouldn't even be close to a fair competition,"_ he pointed out.

"Yeah okay," I agreed, smiling. "You just let me get a few letters so I can feel like I'm helping out."

_"__You got it, little miss."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello readers!**

**After this chapter I'm going to update one chapter at a time, on the same schedule as _Phantasm_. So chapter seven is due on Tuesday! See you all then.**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven<p>

We had gathered the entire alphabet a grand total of three times by the time we hit the Tranquility border. It was a much larger town than Park City was and I felt a little overwhelmed by all of the people milling about and the density of the buildings. It was around eleven when we finally pulled into the meat of town, after stopping to get some breakfast at a Denny's. Jazz pulled into an empty parking lot belonging to some restaurant that only opened for dinner and he cut the engine.

"What's going on?" I asked, sitting up in my seat a little straighter.

_"__Gotta contact Bee. Figure out what's up and where they at."_

I nodded and settled back into my seat, manually letting it lean back. "Alright, then I'm taking a short nap while you figure that out."

He chuckled warmly. _"Feel free."_

Though I knew I couldn't fall asleep, it was still nice to close my eyes and just relax. In the middle of broad daylight I'd been too uncomfortable to lean back and nap because I was still certain someone would notice that Jazz wasn't being driven by anyone.

It seemed like it was only ten seconds later that Jazz's voice was waking me up, but the clock told me that my nap had lasted about twenty minutes. I stretched my arms, making my spine pop in a few dozen places, and then rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and yawned. "So what did you figure out?"

Jazz went on to explain that the night before, Bumblebee had been trying to contact the others in their group. Sam had apparently followed him and watched the transformation. He'd been picked up by the local police and taken in for questioning, but returned home sometime after sunrise. Poor guy.

"So what is Bumblebee gonna do?" I asked.

_"__He on his way back to Sam's house. Gon' see what he can do about damage control."_

I sighed. "Well good luck with that."

He pulled out of the parking spot and then moved a few blocks down to another gas station. This one was huge—it had a dozen spots to fill up gas tanks and even advertised showers. The gas pumps reminded me of something. . . . Oh.

"So, any of those times we stopped on the way here, we didn't fill up with gas, did we?" I asked, watching a teenager with a huge truck fill up his tank.

_"__N'aw. I'm powered by energon. All Cybertronians are."_

"Ah ok. Makes sense." I didn't particularly know what "energon" was, but I could assume what it meant, at least. Probably some sort of fuel. But they were machines—living ones, sure, but wouldn't they need tune-ups or whatever?

I figured it wasn't important and waited for an explanation for why we had shown up at this gas station. When I didn't get one, I asked. "What are we doing here, anyway?"

_"__We gonna wait for Bee's word. Why don't you go do humans things before we meet 'em?"_ he suggested, sounding only slightly uncomfortable mentioning it. It made me smile a little bit.

I didn't really want to be left alone in a city I knew nothing about, but I did need to change—my undershirt felt sticky from sweat and probably some dried blood, and after sitting down to eat some breakfast and drink some coffee, I wanted to brush my teeth again.

"Will you be around?" I asked, reaching for the shopping bag with my stuff in it.

"_Ye'h 'course I will be,"_ he agreed a little too quickly. I ignored it though and climbed out of the car with a brief goodbye to him.

*:･ﾟ✧

The showers and bathrooms were easy to find and the place wasn't terribly busy. It didn't seem like a big tourist town, so the only ones there were probably just people passing through on their way to bigger and better places.

I had to buy a small bar of body soap, a washcloth, a towel, and a two-in-one hair shampoo, but I didn't mind too much considering I hadn't even expected to shower at all. There wasn't much dirt but there _was_ a lot of dried blood from wounds that I hadn't managed to bandage. I'd brought some fresh bandages to replace the old ones, too.

Here the showers were in an open locker room, like at a public swimming pool. I was generally against changing in front of a bunch of people, so my clothes were nearby and ready after I'd towel-dried off.

However, I didn't put all of the clothes on. I slipped into a pair of comfortable leggings that looked like normal jeans, fresh socks, my sneakers, and then a white tank top. I had a shirt to wear over it, but I needed to put on more bandages and there were no mirrors in the showers. That meant I needed to get out and go find a mirror somewhere.

For now the dressing area was empty, so I had to be quick.

With the tiny tank top on, I got out of the stall and tried to look in the mirror at my other wounds. It was a blind miracle that I hadn't gotten a black eye or something: the last thing I needed was for people to think I had been beaten. The only thing on my face was an angry red scratch that stood out on my cheek bone. I hadn't seen it before, but it might have just been looked over while I stared at the bruises.

Another lady walked in while I had my shirt up and I was poking at the ugly black bruise along my ribs, startling me. She gave me a concerned and then disgusted look and I sheepishly put down the tank top.

"Car accident," I murmured, feeling the need to put her mind at rest. Maybe she'd stop staring at me.

"Sucks," she muttered, ducking into a stall.

I waited for her stall to lock and then poked at the bruise some more. It wasn't swollen and the skin still felt firm, so I figured it was all probably superficial. I placed new bandages on the scabbed-over scratches and then slipped on a loose tee over the white tank top. It hung loosely around my shoulders, but at least it didn't show any bruises.

After brushing my teeth I decided I needed to fix my hair. I headed back to the floor, bought a hair brush and some clips, then fixed up my topknot.

One last glance at my reflection, and I was headed back outside. I glanced at my phone and winced: I'd been in that gas station for almost forty-five minutes. I hadn't meant to take that long, but with all that I had to do, it couldn't be helped.

When I walked outside, Jazz wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Fear gripped me for several heart beats. I stood there for a little bit, looking for him, then did a quick lap around the station. Nothing. He was nowhere. Had I taken too long? Had he actually ditched me? _Would_ he ditch me?

I stood there for the longest time, trying to decide what to do, when a silver car screeched to a halt in front of me. At first I thought it was Jazz, but it wasn't a Sunbird. It was a much fancier car. Still a Pontiac, and after a moment of staring at it I realized it was one of the new Solstice cars.

The horn blared and made me jump about three feet in the air, and then the window rolled down. There was no driver.

_"__Don' jus' stare. Get in!_"

My mouth fell open slightly and then I took a deep breath. "Jazz?" I asked tentatively.

_"__Who else would I be?"_

Relief flooded through me and I moved around the other side to get into the driver's seat. As soon as the door was closed he pulled away from the gas station and shot onto the main street. I ran my hands over the pleather seats and admired the interior for a moment. "Why did you—how did you. . . ?"

_"__This's more my style. Didn't have nothing with style in that backwater town o' yours."_

I huffed indignantly. "Well excuse me."

_"__Ah naw sorry little miss. I didn't mean it like that,"_ he quickly backpedaled. _"Yo' Camry wasn't so bad but this—this is just so smooth."_

Sighing, I rubbed my forehead. "It's fine. It's a pretty small town so I know. But how?"

_"__Same way I did the Sunbird."_

When I didn't reply and instead just stared blankly at the dashboard he continued. _"Oh. Ye'h I just scan it and figure out how it configured and then replicate it by rearranging things a li'l bit! It's easy for us Cybertronians. Yo' tech ain't so different. Primitive, but ain't so different."_

I nodded once. "Oh. Well alright. I'm sorry it took me so long."

_"__Naw it ain't no thang. We in no rush. Well—kinda. Sam saw Bee snooping 'round his house and freaked out, then ran for it," _he explained with a heavy sigh.

"I did too when I first met you, remember?" I remarked, peering out the tinted windows.

_"__Ye'h and then I had to kidnap ya."_

Despite how it sounded, I still smiled. "So why didn't Bumblebee do it to this Sam person?" I tried not to sound bitter. I mostly succeeded.

_"__Y'know. Busier town. 'Sides, I can talk. Bee can't so much. Would have been harder f'him to explain what was going on."_

I tilted my head slightly. "Why can't he talk?"

_"__Got hurt in a battle. Ratchet ain't been able to fix his voice processer yet."_

That name again. I was beginning to picture him as the team's medic. "Oh, okay. So what's the plan now, then? Are we gonna hunt down Sam?"

_ "__Y'eh. Gonna try to intercept him. Maybe you can calm him down."_

"I'll do my best." I had a few things in mind for what I was going to say, but I hadn't been thinking about it a whole lot. Still, if I was going to make this whole transition easier, I had to give it a shot.

*:･ﾟ✧

Eventually we found him.

I had zoned out and had just been staring out at the city as it passed by, noting all the big name stores that I didn't have at Park City. When Jazz suddenly put on a burst of speed, it pulled me from my thoughts and I sat up, looking around. "What's going on?"

_"__Bee chased Sam under an overpass. We right on top of them, hold on."_

There wasn't much to hold on to so I just braced myself against the seat as he picked up speed and then turned a corner, tires squealing. A yellow car, like an old Camaro, was coming down the opposite way. If I hadn't known better I would have thought we were going to collide, but both cars stopped with maybe only a couple inches between bumpers.

It didn't have a driver.

"Is that. . . ?"

_"__Bumblebee," _Jazz confirmed.

I could see why he was called that. The yellow Camaro had black racing stripes, and as close as we were I could see a bee-shaped air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror, next to a little disco ball. It made me wonder if they just picked out their names when they came down here. I leaned forward while they spoke, or whatever they did to communicate, looking for this Sam kid.

However, I didn't even know what he looked like.

Movement far in the distance caught my attention and I unbuckled my seat belt so I could lean forward more and get a better look. It was a hulking figure, running. . . .

My eyes widened and I fell back into my seat. "Jazz! Jazz it's the cop!"

His tires squealed as he backed up as quick as he could, and Bumblebee pulled forward with us before turning sharply and flipping around. He didn't have near the turn radius Jazz did, but he still managed.

_"__Put on yo' seat belt."_

I did as I was told and buckled in as he followed Bumblebee around a winding path through the underpass. I could hear cars above us, but down where we were the place looked terrible. It was littered with junk cars and trash, and it was hard to navigate.

The seatbelt strained and I leaned forward, looking around frantically. "C'mon, c'mon, where are they?"

Bumblebee led the way, charging ahead. I could see a car somewhere ahead of us go sailing through the air and I knew we were close. I gripped the center console and my seat belt like life lines, and then, after sailing around a support structure, Barricade barreled into view, running for two teenagers sitting on the road.

"There, there!" I shouted, though I was sure Jazz and Bumblebee had already spotted the two humans.

I braced myself as Bumblebee turned sharply, spinning into Barricade and knocking him off of his feet. Then he turned and pulled up by Sam and some girl I hadn't heard them mention before. He threw open his passenger-side door and waited.

When they seemed more interested in arguing about whether or not to get in the car, Barricade was recovering. I threw off my seatbelt and opened Jazz's door, standing up. "Get in the car you idiots!" I shouted at them, leaning over Jazz's roof.

They stared at me, bewildered, but seeing me was enough. They got up and the kid I assumed was Sam—unless maybe it was short for Samantha and it was the girl? No, no Jazz had definitely made it sound like it was a guy we were looking for—helped the girl up and they both climbed inside of Bumblebee.

_"__Kat!" _Jazz warned.

I turned toward Barricade. He was rolling back to his feet while Bumblebee took off, so I ducked back inside Jazz and slammed the door. Before it was closed all the way, he was shooting forward after his comrade. Not bothering with the seatbelt, I turned as far as I could to look out of Jazz' rear windshield. Barricade was back in vehicle mode and was giving chase.

"Gotta lose him," I muttered.

_"__I know! Sit'own!"_

His voice was urgent enough that I obeyed quickly, turning to sit straight. I put on the seatbelt this time and braced myself for the chase.

We were driving through some sort of abandoned industrial district. Warehouses and empty building lined the road around us, and the street in question was barely paved, like it was covered in rocks. Every few seconds I was being tossed around, and then every now and again Barricade would catch up just enough to ram us. I found it to be nothing short of a miracle that Jazz managed to stay straight.

"Where are you going? What are you doing? No—no Jazz no!" I let out a short cry as first Bumblebee charged through a wide window into a warehouse, then Jazz. I figured that it was a good thing Bumblebee had gone through first, but the landing still jarred me.

The warehouse had nothing but support beams and tarps in it, and the two Autobots crisscrossed around each other before sharply turning a 180 and shooting past Barricade. I turned to watch him as he slammed on his breaks, attempting to pull around as well, but a pillar blocked his path and she came to a short stop.

I lost sight of him as we drove back outside, and we maneuvered further and further into the industrial district until we were certain that the not-cop hadn't followed us. Then, Jazz and Bumblebee pulled up next to each other so their driver-side windows were parallel.

My window rolled down and then Sam was leaning out of his own open window, eyes wild and breathing erratic. "Who are you? What the hell is going on!" he demanded.

Pulling on my seatbelt, I shifted so I too could lean out of the open window. "It's alright! We're safe for now. You just gotta calm down, okay? I know it's a lot to take in, I know you're scared, but these guys," I swept my hand over the Camaro and then Jazz. "they just want to help, okay?"

Sam leaned further out of the window and pointed outward. "What was that thing!"

All of the scenarios I'd played out in my head went wrong at this part of my speech, but it had to be done. I took a deep breath and pressed my lips into a thin line. "An alien."

He just stared at me, mouth open. The girl in the seat next to him asked something I couldn't hear and he turned toward her. "An alien! She says it's an alien!" his voice cracked somewhere in the middle and I couldn't tell if it was because of puberty or because of the hysteria. When he turned toward me, he still didn't look any calmer. "Are you serious right now? An alien?"

I rubbed my forehead and sighed. "Look—we can't talk about this here, okay? I can explain—they can explain everything, but we gotta—"

The sound of a loud siren interrupted me. Sam and I turned away from each other to look down the road and there he was—Barricade, hurtling down the street toward us with his lights flashing angrily.

"Shit—go!"

I pulled my head back into the car and Bumblebee pulled forward first, leaving Jazz to turn sharply and follow after him.

"This guy doesn't give up," I muttered, fastening my seatbelt again.

_"__You got no idea,_" Jazz sighed.

"Who is he, anyway?" I turned slightly to see him following closely behind.

Jazz made a sharp turn, splitting off from Bumblebee. _"Decepticon scout. He was pr'y sent to figure out where you two was."_

"Why don't you just fight?" I asked, leaning against a particularly sharp turn.

I swore the car was only driving on two wheels the next time he turned around. _"Too much collateral here. Gotta find an open space. Gonna try to lose him—th' less exposure humans get to us, th' better."_

It made sense, but it seemed like it would have been a lot easier to just double team the robot and get it over with.

We rounded another building and I looked around frantically for the other car and his passengers, but I saw nothing. "Where'd they go? Where are they?" I asked, spinning around as far as Jazz' interior would allow, trying to spot a glimpse of yellow or a flash of police lights.

_"__Think I lost 'em too good,"_ Jazz muttered, sounding only slightly chagrined.

"Well un-lose them!" I groaned.

His engine roared as he sped along down the road. I could hear a high-pitched sound, like some sort of signal. Not quite as obnoxious as a fire alarm, more like a beep that you couldn't quite find the source of. Jazz slowed down to a less-scary speed and patrolled toward a power plant of some kind, a sprawling field beyond.

_"__Lemme know if you see somethin',"_ he requested.

I only nodded and sat up tall in my seat, trying to look for the yellow Camaro or the black police Mustang. Instead, I saw, over some oil drums or something, a tall yellow robot. "There, there!" I pointed.

Barricade had spotted them first. I saw him charging in his vehicle form, and then he was leaping into the air like he had yesterday, tackling Bumblebee in mid-transformation.

_"__Show time_," Jazz smirked. The gravel under his tires crunched as he tried to take off on the loose ground, but he pulled forward all the same and veered around some machinery. Sam and his lady friend—a girlfriend, maybe?—were running from some skeletal-looking person-sized robot and I leaned forward.

"What is that?" I hissed.

_"__Frenzy!" _Jazz hit the brakes, my seatbelt released, and the door on my side opened. _"Tuck'n roll, little miss."_

When the door swung open all the way, I did as I was told and bailed. He was going slow enough that the moving ground didn't quite make me lose my balance, but I stumbled several steps until I regained my composure, and then I was running for the two teens.

"Hey! _Sam_!" I shouted. He glanced back, but the little thing, Frenzy I guess, leaped on top of him and tackled him to the ground. His lady friend kept running while he tried to kick the person-sized robot off of him. I grimaced, feeling like that was partly my fault. Somewhere behind me, I heard Jazz undergoing his transformation.

I stopped running and looked around, trying to find something to use, but there was just rocks. I figured they were as good of a place as any to start and picked up a softball-sized stone, then hurled it at the robot.

It hit its leg and it screeched, turning to look at me. I froze where I stood, as if for some reason I thought it wasn't able to see me if I didn't move. Like a dinosaur. Stupid, stupid.

"Walker!" it chirped.

The distraction was enough. Sam turned and landed a powerful kick to the thing's chest and it was sent sprawling. He scrambled to his feet while the thing recovered and ran toward me. "Go! It's going to kill us!"

He reached out when he made it to me and grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around. "Run, run!" he shouted. I glanced around for Jazz, but he wasn't anywhere I could see him.

Frenzy was up on his feet. He screeched a challenge and leaped toward us, moving like some sort of lemur on steroids. With Jazz not around, the courage dropped out from under me and I let Sam drag me away.

This thing was faster than it looked. We didn't get thirty yards before it jumped on top of us, shoving us through a weak chain link fence and down a steep hill. I rolled until I hit a fence at the bottom of the hill, and then I scrambled on all fours across the ground when I spotted Frenzy leaping toward us. He hit the fence instead, and then rounded on the person closest to him—Sam.

"Witwicky!" the robot chirped. He spoke in fits and starts, like his voice modulator didn't quite work the way it was supposed to.

I got to my feet while Sam shoved the robot away from him and I lunged forward, grabbing Frenzy and yanking him around, stumbling backwards to stand next to Sam. Frenzy thrashed until he was on his feet, and then his leg pistons pumped before he sprang toward us with a mighty leap.

Before I could stop it, a little scream left my lips and I cringed against Sam, holding my arms out. Sam shoved me aside and I stumbled long the fence. Frenzy clawed at him, chirping in that strange way of his. "Witwicky! Walker!"

Out of nowhere, a power saw sliced through the thin metal and wiring of Frenzy's arm. The little robot screamed, and then Sam's lady friend hacked away at it a couple more times.

His little head detached from his mangled body and I leaned against the fence in relief. Frenzy babbled in his own language and Sam crouched forward. "Yeah not so tough without a head, huh?" he taunted before taking a few swift steps forward and then punted the little head back up the hill. Frenzy screamed the entire way.

"Good kick," I panted.

They both rounded on me and I pressed against the fence again, looking between the two. At first I thought maybe they were angry, but they just looked like frightened deer.

"Who are you?" Sam demanded, lifting a hand to point at me.

I swallowed and nodded. "Right—um, my name's Kat Walker. I'll explain but. . . let's find the cars, and then go somewhere quiet, okay? It's a long. . . long story."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello readers!**

**I'm terrible sorry about the wait. X.X I could not for the life of me get the beginning of this chapter how I wanted it. I'm overall satisfied, but at the same time. . . eh. I guess every chapter can't be a hit. It's a super long exposition chapter so it might not be THAT great but I tried x.x**

**I should update faster now as I only have minor revisions for the rest of the story. I don't think I'll have a set time frame for each update, just whenever I get the revisions done. They shouldn't take longer than one week between updates, though, unless something happens. :/ Anyway, thanks for being patient!**

**This chapter I had to break out my movie prequel comic for some continuity stuff, but I think I did alright. Hopefully I explained what happened in _Ghosts of Yesterday_ enough to answer questions without legit just writing out a synopsis of the book haha.**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Eight<p>

"So you like, _own_ Bumblebee?"

"Not like—y'know, like a _slave_, or anything. I'm just saying like. . . I _purchased_ him. There was an exchange. . . of money, that's all! I don't _own_ him!"

I quirked my eyebrow and stalled by taking a sip of the Pepsi I had bought. "I know what you mean, calm down," I murmured, setting the cup back down on the table. Defensive little twerp, this Sam Witwicky.

He leaned back and dipped a fry in some ketchup. "Well good 'cause. . . you were giving me that look, y'know?"

"I didn't give you a look. This is my face."

We'd been sitting outside of a McDonald's for nearly an hour, trading stories and introductions. I'd treated them all to it so we had an excuse to kind of chill out, though all I'd chosen was a large fry and a Pepsi.

Sam's lady friend was one of his classmates—Mikaela Banes was her name, and it seemed she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time when Barricade had attacked. Because of that, she was under the protection of Bumblebee just the same as Sam was. I could tell that Sam wasn't very torn up about it, and the way he looked at her I assumed he was crushing pretty hard.

Didn't blame him. The girl was pretty. She reminded me a little bit of Marie when she and I were still in high school, but Marie was blonde like me.

Unlike me, however, Sam didn't have a car that the Autobot could replace, so he had instead put himself in a position to be bought while Sam was out car shopping. I didn't know how he'd pulled that off, but I didn't ask.

Once Bumblebee had insinuated himself into Sam's life, that was when Jazz was supposed to reveal himself to me. In the long run it had worked out even though Barricade had made the introduction about ten times more painful than Jazz had first intended. It had all kind of ended the same—Jazz got me on board and now I was doing what was intended: making sure Sam was on board too.

"What do we do from here?" Mikaela asked, glancing over her shoulder to where the two Autobots were parked. We sat outside at one of the tables so it would be harder to be overhead as well as making it easier for Jazz and Bumblebee to watch us.

I sighed and sat back in my seat, rolling the last fry between my fingers. "We have to meet the rest of their team, I guess."

Sam leaned forward and swallowed his bite. "And when's that gonna be?"

Shrugging, I turned to Jazz where he sat in the parking lot. He couldn't particularly answer, though, so I wasn't sure what I was expecting. I lifted my hand and tapped on my wrist, where I would if I had a watch.

His lights flashed and I sighed.

"What?" Mikaela asked.

I spun on the bench and crawled to my feet. "Can't understand a thing he does when he can't talk. I'll be right back."

Even with my back to them I could still feel their eyes following me. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable, just because I knew they felt lost. I was the adult in this situation, though I didn't really feel like I could fit that. I wasn't in high school anymore, sure, but this kind of responsibility was seemingly beyond me.

Up until a month ago, I had still lived with my parents. Still relied on them to make all of my decisions for me.

Felt weird having people only slightly younger than me looking for the answers.

Didn't think I liked it.

Jazz' door slammed behind me as I sat in the driver's seat and I looked to the dashboard. "What?" I asked gently.

_"__Gon' be dark in a couple hours. They be here soon."_

"Where are we meeting them?"

He paused briefly. _"Dunno. Don't got exact coordinations for where they gon' land, just that it gon' be somewhere in town."_

I had to frown at that. "Hopefully not in the middle of the city?"

_"__Uh._"

Sighing, I leaned back in the seat and rubbed my forehead. "Let me guess, they're going to do their best. How long has it been since you were last able to contact them?" Might as well talk about something that didn't stress me out.

_"__Yesterday."_

Oh boy. I rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes. "So how do you know, exactly, when they're going to be here?"

He chuckled and sounded immensely amused when he replied. _"You don' think we can estimate a time frame when we gon' be landing? We eons 'head of yo' planet in technology. Ya do remember that, don'tcha?"_

I grimaced. "Oh. I'm sorry. . . you're right."

_"__Naw don' worry 'bout it." _

"No—no I'm just so stressed out right now, I didn't mean to be snippy."

_"__I said don' worry 'bout it, little miss,"_ he chuckled. _"Go back out an' make nice with the kids. Finish ya food and we'll head out again."_

Nodding, I climbed back out to join Sam and Mikaela at the bench and relay what I'd been told. I wanted to correct him about them being kids, but I figured I had to choose my battles with these aliens and that wasn't one of the battles I should be choosing.

*:･ﾟ✧

Night fell on Tranquility as we made our way to whatever predetermined meeting place the Autobots had set up. Jazz led the way with Bumblebee bringing up the rear, Sam and Mikaela safely inside. Jazz was only a two-seater car, and I didn't really want to ride in the car with the two of them. They were decent people, though Sam was a little twitchy, but I felt weird talking to a couple of underage teenagers.

I was still in the habit of pretending to drive, and when I glanced back at the rear-view mirror, I noticed that Bumblebee was no longer behind us. I checked all of my mirrors and my blind spots, but I couldn't spot the yellow Camaro.

"Where'd they go?" I asked, slightly worried.

Jazz was silent a moment or two, then replied. _"Dunno. Sure they'll catch up, though. Bee can take care of himself"_

It was just a deflection, but I let it go anyway. "If you say so. How will you know when your friends land?" I didn't doubt that Bumblebee could take care of himself and the other two, but I found it odd they would just take off on their own like that.

_"__We'll know, any minute now._"

That I raised my eyebrows at, but when I opened my mouth to ask for clarification, a bright light shot across the night sky. It fell close and it looked huge. I leaned forward in my seat to watch it's progress across the horizon. Buildings rose up to meet it and I heard the distant impact, as well as sirens already springing up.

"Shit what was that?" I gasped. When I scanned the sky, I could see a few more distant balls of flames. So Autbots weren't immune to entering our atmosphere, then.

_"__One of the others. They gon' meet us when they find camouflage,"_ Jazz assured me.

When I couldn't seem to spot any more, I leaned back in my seat and ran my fingers through my bangs, pushing them from my eyes. Someone was going to see those things. How long until the government showed up to investigate? Why hadn't they already? "You mean when they find cars to transform into?"

_"__Zactly."_

I took a breath and went back to pretending to drive. "I hope they didn't squish anyone. You guys sure know how to make an entrance. . . ."

_"__Heh. . . y'eh it seems some of our calculations were. . . off." _

"Some super advanced race of aliens you are," I mocked, smirking at my dashboard.

For a moment I tried to wrack my brain for instances of meteors in the past couple of months, something that would tell me when exactly Jazz and Bumblebee had landed on Earth, but I had never really been much of a news person, so I came up with nothing.

Probably for the best. If I figured that out, then I'd just stress out about how long the Decepticons had been on Earth, too.

*:･ﾟ✧

It was only another 15 minutes of driving, then Jazz turned down an alleyway and slowly braked to a stop. A brand-new Camaro was already there, pulled up alongside a building. At first I didn't know who it belonged to, but then Sam and Mikaela climbed out to stand.

_"__I guess tha's what they was doin'." _Jazz observed.

Shaking my head, I unbuckled my seatbelt and swung Jazz' door open. "Because how shiny your vehicle form is matters, right?" I couldn't keep the sarcasm from my voice.

Jazz chuckled. _"Don' be jealous."_

I closed my eyes and sighed, then climbed out of my seat and shut the door behind me. "How'd a teenager like you afford such a nice car?" I called, smilingly slightly.

Sam and Mikaela turned to look at me, then Sam glanced at the newer version Bumblebee was sporting. He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head. "Uh—yeah you didn't know? Trust fund. . . or something. Insurance pay out. . . maybe?"

Mikaela rolled her eyes and I shook my head. "Good save."

Engines roared nearby and I tensed, pressing closer to Jazz. It wasn't long after that before a few different vehicles rolled into the alley, surrounding us. At first I was nervous, but when Jazz didn't immediately go into fight mode, I relaxed just a tiny bit. All of the cars were much larger than Jazz or Bumblebee; a garishly-colored Search and Rescue Hummer, a large semi-truck with blue paint and red flames, and a black GMC pick-up truck.

"You guys sure don't look ostentatious or anything," I muttered sarcastically, rubbing my forehead and glancing to the buildings on either side of us. Windows with lights. Great. Hopefully no one thought to see what all the hullabaloo was about out here in the alley.

Though Sam and Mikaela moved up to meet the robots, I stood by Jazz, intimidated by all of these giant cars that were actually robots. The heavy-duty long-nose truck that pulled up in front of us transformed first, and he was completely finished before the other robots started to change, so I figured he was their leader, this Optimus Prime guy.

None of them held the same kind of flair that Jazz did. Soon as I heard the clicking and grinding gears, I hobbled over to stand by Sam and Mikaela, but still hung back just a bit while Jazz finished his breakdance transformation. I waited for Jazz to finish before I moved back into place by his side.

These two teens might have been full of child-like wonder, but I had seen enough sci-fi movies to know that meeting an alien race wasn't all fun and games. I was having a moment of doubt, considering that maybe I had been tricked and _these_ guys were bad. I didn't know what their end game would be, though, and I knew it was stupid to think that.

The diesel engine shifted into a big blue robot with hints of the red flames across his chest. He was probably a good ten feet taller than Jazz was, and I was starting to realize that Jazz was probably the smallest Autobot present. The GMC was smaller than the semi-truck by a few feet, but built like—well, a truck—and the Hummer turned into a bright acid-yellow robot. He must have been Ratchet, just because he was an ambulance, and Jazz had mentioned him a couple times on the ride over.

Bumblebee was the second smallest Autobot next to Jazz, and it was strikingly different now that they were next to the three bigger robots. Even Barricade was smaller than these others, so I was beginning to wonder which height was "average".

The Peterbilt kneeled down so he was at eye-level with Sam and Mikaela. I still refused to leave Jazz's side, content to wait. They could aknowledge me when they felt like it.

Jazz bent over and nudged me with a finger. "Why you so tense?" he whispered.

All I could do was shake my head and watch the robots, rubbing my fingers together. I had no real words for how I was feeling—overwhelmed was a good start, but it wasn't just that. Maybe I was a little scared, maybe things had just gotten too real. . .

"Are you Samuel James Witwicky, descendant of Archibald Witwicky?" the big Autobot addressed Sam. He had a powerful voice that just confirmed he was the leader.

Mikaela whispered something to Sam, but he ignored her and stepped up to meet the robot face to face. He answered, sounding about as nervous I felt. At least this time we weren't being yelled at by an evil robot. "Yeah?"

Then the big bot turned his head to look straight at me. I quailed and leaned toward Jazz. "And are you Kathryn Walker, descendant of Captain Sam Walker?"

Sam and Mikaela turned toward me expectantly, along with everyone else. I just nodded, a nervous and jerky motion. "But you can call me Kat," I replied, my voice breaking enough so that I had to clear my throat halfway through.

Nodding, the robot turned back to Sam. "My name is Optimus Prime. We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron," Optimus explained. Alright I was one for one on the robot names. At some encouragement from Jazz, I walked up to stand by the other two humans.

"But you can call us Autobots for short," the robot I thought was Ratchet suggested.

"Yeah Kat told us all about you," Mikaela offered, nodding her head in my direction and offering a tiny little smile.

My face paled and I glanced around, wondering briefly if that was a good thing. But Jazz had told me that it was the whole point of coming to me first—what was I worrying about? There was literally zero reason for me to be freaking out, but I couldn't stop the uncertainty from wiggling into my brain.

However, everyone just nodded their approval.

Optimus indicated to Jazz. "Good, then you have already met my first Lieutenant, designation Jazz. I am pleased that Kathryn was able to meet with you early enough to give you the initial information."

I sighed. So I guess I could add one more person to list of people that called me Kathryn instead of Kat.

Jazz startled me when he jumped back, landing on a decrepit old car behind us, lounging on it with his arms crossed over his chest. Apparently being a first lieutenant gave you the right to just kind of hang out. I sighed and rubbed my face with both hands.

He gestured towards the black GMC robot. "This is my weapons specialist, Ironhide."

That was a name I hadn't heard yet. Ironhide lifted his arms up and he twirled a set of cannons mounted on his forearms like a gunslinger's flourish. "Do you feel lucky, punk?" he asked us dramatically. Sam leaned back a little, like he thought he was about to get shot. I shifted uncomfortably, also not keen on having cannons pointed in my direction.

"Easy, Ironhide," Optimus warned.

The over-zealous robot took the whiny, defensive tone of a little kid who had just gotten in trouble. "Just kidding. I just wanted to show them my cannons."

These robots were nothing like I'd expected.

"Our medical officer, Ratchet," Optimus continued, leaving Ironhide to himself.

The robot I had correctly nailed as Ratchet stepped forward and sniffed the air. "The boy's pheromone levels suggests he wants to mate with the female," he announced.

I looked over at the two, eyebrows raised. "That's just normal for teenagers," I smirked.

Mikaela gave him a dry look, then turned her head away and scratched the top of her head. Sam pursed his lips together, his face reddening in the dark. The teenage angst and awkwardness was palpable.

Optimus took no notice to Sam and Mikaela's embarrassment and continued. "You have already met Sam's guardian and my scout, Bumblebee."

Bumblebee started making little boxer moves, bouncing on his feet and jabbing at the air. Muhammad Ali's voice blared from his speakers. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

"You're a scout?" Sam repeated.

"Check out the rep. Yep; second to none." Bumblebee nodded. I didn't recognize that particular sound clip.

Ratchet stepped forward and pointed a red laser at Bumblebee's equivalent of a throat. Bumblebee leaned over, coughing hoarsely. It seemed odd to me, but I wasn't sure why. "Still having issues with your voice processer? I'll work on it more." He looked down at his wrist and tapped the laser a few times.

"So what do you guys need from us?" Mikaela asked after turning around to face Optimus. I had to respect her, cutting to the chase like that.

"We are here to find the All Spark, and we must find it before Megatron," Optimus replied solemnly. That name sounded absolutely ridiculous, but so did most of the names these robots had. At least Bumblebee kind of made sense, and Jazz had picked his own name, but what about the rest of them?

"Kat said he's the leader of some other group of robots," Sam confirmed, glancing over at me. "But what makes you think he's here?"

Optimus lifted his hand to his temple and pressed it, and beams shot from his eyes , projecting something on the ground around us. The floor cracked soundlessly around us, some sort of hologram. It took me a bit by surprise and I hopped over a crack that appeared in the ground, afraid it was really opening up beneath me. Jazz was next to me in a second, arm held out to steady me when I stumbled.

"Easy, little miss."

My face heated when I realized I wasn't in any actual danger and I stood still, shoulders hunched. I really needed to relax before I gave myself an ulcer.

"The All Spark is our power source. We owe our very existence to it. Its energy sustained us and even the planet itself," he began.

"Our world was once a powerful empire, peaceful and just, until we were betrayed by Megatron, leader of the Decepticons." The hologram became more elaborate and suddenly we were seeing what could only be Cybertron. Complicated and advanced buildings sprang up and I thought I saw other Cybertronians.

"He sought to possess the All Spark for his own twisted purposes. All who defied him were destroyed. Our war finally consumed the planet and the only choice I had was to propel the All Spark off-planet, losing it to the stars." The hologram panned to show a vicious and sharp-looking behemoth of a robot loom into view—probably Megatron. He threw a spear at a robot in the distance, and it fell to the ground. Megatron threw his head back in a sharp, silent laugh before he turned to look at something we couldn't see.

"Megatron followed it to Earth, where Captain Witwicky found him," Optimus continued, letting the

"My grandfather," Sam breathed in disbelief.

"It was an accident that intertwined our fates. Megatron crash-landed before he could retrieve the Cube. Somehow, Captain Witwicky accidentally activated Megatron's navigation system. The coordinates to the Cube's location is imprinted on his glasses."

"How do you know about the glasses?" Sam asked quickly.

Optimus turned to him. "eBay."

"eBay," Sam scoffed, glancing at Mikaela.

"If the Decepticons find it first, they will use it to transform Earth's machines and create a new army," Ratchet offered, clenching a fist.

"Then the Human race will be extinguished," Optimus added with a sage nod of his head. He stood up tall and looked down at us all. The rest stepped up to form a ring around us. "Sam Witwicky, you hold the key to Earth's survival."

Mikaela leaned toward Sam and whispered, "Please tell me you have those glasses."

Sam nodded and pointed over to me. "What about her? She explained a little bit, but I don't understand why she's here. No offense," he added, glancing at me.

I shrugged. "I told you. . . they knew my great-great-grandpa too."

Ratchet shook his head. "I believe he is only one great. It was not long ago in your Earth years—I believe it was at the same time the Apollo launched that they were sent into space."

My brows knit together. "Apollo? That was. . . 1960, um. . . ."

"1969," Sam recited. At least someone paid attention in their history class, unlike me.

"Yeah. Wow. . . I thought it was longer than that." I tried not to let my embarrassment show. History had never been my thing, I was more of an independent study person.

Optimus turned his gaze to me. Blue glowing lenses for eyes, just like the rest of the Autobots. So it really was that easy—Blue-eyed Autobots and red-eyed Decepticons. "She is a descendent of Captain Sam Walker. After Captain Witwicky discovered Megatron, he was taken captive by your government and frozen. Using technology made from reverse-engineering Megatron, they made a ship capable of spaceflight."

Mikaela shook her head. "But we already did back then, you said so yourself. We went to the moon and back."

"Real spaceflight. Somehow they used the sun's gravity to slingshot through space and travelled through a wormhole. They stumbled upon a galaxy where we and the Decepticons were fighting. Eventually a firefight started. In order to save me, Captain Walker and his crew shot the Decepticons' current leader, Starscream, and severely wounded him. Starscream destroyed their ship. I fear Kathryn will be in danger of retaliation from Starscream."

Ironhide shifted his weight and shook his head. "We believe Barricade, or one of the other Decepticons, is the cause of her parent's tragic death. Though we do not believe it was entirely on purpose."

My heart dropped. "What do you mean?"

"Their mission was most likely to capture all three of you. Perhaps they didn't realize how fragile your species is and used too much force," Ratched explained gravely.

I had to fight the tears and I took a deep breath. "No—no they were in a car accident with other residents of my town. They couldn't have—what are you even saying?" I babbled, looking desperately to Jazz.

He leaned down and held his hand up behind me comfortingly. "I replaced your car, remember? It was probably a Decpticon in disguise, trying to incapacitate your parents."

Sam and Mikaela turned to me, horrified.

"Oh my god, you didn't mention—I'm so sorry," Mikaela offered, taking a step toward me as if to offer comfort. I lifted a hand to stop her and she halted.

"Please," I breathed.

Optimus paused, as if trying to decide if he should continue, then went on anyway. "I had promised to get them safely to Earth so they could warn your planet about our war and Megatron, but I failed them. In order to make it up to Captain Walker for not being able to save his screw, we planned to keep his kin safe."

"Been doing a great job," I muttered, crossing my arms bitterly over my chest. All this time I'd thought it was some horrendous accident, and I'd been so shitty to the people that hit them. . . and it wasn't even their fault.

Jazz brushed his hand soothingly against my back. "We're sorry, Kat. They were. . . just faster this time."

I sighed and looked up at him, trying not to look angry, but if the way he leaned back was any indication, I had probably not succeeded. "It's whatever. Can't change what's already happened."

"The glasses, Sam," Optimus urged. I was glad for the redirect.

Part of me was a little salty that Sam was Sam while I was still being called Kathryn.

He nodded and motioned toward Bumblebee. "Yeah, yeah—right. They're at my house. We'll go get them now and you can find your All Spark thingy and then I can go back to having a normal life."

Normal. Sure. Like that was an option for any of us anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello readers!**

**Sorry for the wait! Here's two chapters for your enjoyment! It was actually going to be one originally, but I had to split it into two or else it would have been one ridiculously long chapter. **

**It took so long because I ended up hating how I had it originally, so I had to re-write chunks of it. I think you all will like it better this way. I hope.**

**Enjoy!**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine<p>

For a while, Jazz and I just sat in silence as we headed for Sam's home. I didn't even pretend to drive like I normally did, figuring that it was dark enough that no one could see, and at the moment I didn't particularly care if anyone _did_ see.

_"__You. . . okay?" _he asked at last.

I sighed and looked out the window, my arms crossed over my chest. "I'm fine."

_"__If this is 'bout yer parents—"_

"No," I said quickly, refusing to look at the dashboard. "I mean yes, but I'm not mad _at you_. I'm just. . . mad in general."

He was silent for a couple minutes before he spoke again. I kind of wished he would have just let me stew in my own juices for a while, but I was also glad he cared enough to try to help. _"Did ya wanna. . . talk 'bout it, or somethin'?"_

"No, I'll be fine. Just. . . I don't blame you, okay?" I finally turned enough to look at the dashboard. It was where his voice came from, so it was my only point of reference.

_"__A'ight but tha's not what I'm worried 'bout."_

Sighing, I leaned back in my seat and just nodded. "I told you. I'll be fine. I've just gotta process this new information so. . . just don't worry."

Jazz muttered in the affirmative and fell silent, turning the radio up just a tad bit so there was some sort of sound in the background. It wasn't that loud, and it was appropriately calm music. It brought a small smile to my face, knowing how hard he was trying.

Bumblebee lead the way to Sam's house with Optimus close behind. Jazz and I were between him and Ironhide, and then Ratchet brought up the rear. It didn't make any sense to me. They were supposed to be blending in. How was this blending in? Was it because these were all of the newest and most advanced vehicles we had to offer? Were they just not comfortable in really old cars?

I took a little bit of solace in the fact that it was late at night. If this was a little earlier in the evening, we probably would have turned some heads and grabbed some attention. We might have, already. It was pretty strange having a giant diesel truck and a heavy-duty ambulance driving down a quiet neighborhood.

Ironhide and Optimus didn't have particularly quiet vehicle modes, either. This whole thing reeked of terrible planning and a lack of common sense, but there wasn't a whole lot that I could do about it.

We reached Sam's house and all of the cars pulled into the tight space of a driveway next to Sam's house. It was really just a space between his house and his neighbors, separated with a fence, but it at least fit everyone in it. I could barely hear the barking of a dog behind the walls, but I thought maybe I was imagining it.

Sam turned in his seat to say something to Mikaela, then he crawled out of the Bumblebee-Camaro. I didn't move to get out even as Mikaela climbed out of her seat to stand outside, and I still didn't move as he made his way over to me.

"Stay here and wait! Make sure _they_ stay here! I just need five minutes!" he requested, tapping on my window.

"Ok," I resigned, settling into my seat. Didn't seem like a ridiculous request.

"Just wait five minutes!" Sam added to the cars. He ran off towards his back yard and disappeared between some trees. Mikaela stood by Bumblebee's still-open door and leaned on it, watching him go.

"You hear that?" I asked, patting my dashboard. "In five minute you guys'll have those silly glasses."

He chuckled. _"Tha's good. We found 'em before the Decepticons. Tha's all that matters."_

I leaned back in my seat and took a deep breath. "Do you really think there's some sort of map printed on his glasses? It's been like, what? Forever since that happened? What makes you think it survived the wear of time?"

_"__It all the lead we got. Gotta give it a try."_

"Guess that makes sense." I shrugged.

Ahead of us, Optimus pulled forward just a bit and then started to shift. He transformed back into his proto form and started to slowly walk towards the house. Trees gave us cover on either side of the house, but they certainly weren't taller than Optimus was. I leaned forward, my mouth open, and shook my head.

"No! No, no! Wait! He said _five _minutes! It's been two! _Two!_ Jazz!" I hissed through clenched teeth. "Tell him to stop and wait!"

Mikaela whirled around at the sound, and then Bumblebee started his own transformation with Ironhide following their lead. I couldn't see Ratchet from where I was, but I knew he had to be doing the same thing.

I heard a faint crash somewhere around the house. I groaned loudly and rubbed my face with my palms. "Jazz what the hell."

Finally Ratchet walked into view, following the pack around to the back yard. Mikaela whirled around, arms raised slightly above her head, and then she jogged after them, shouting something I couldn't really make out.

"Jazz! He said wait! Just five minutes! Stop them!" I pleaded, holding my hand out in a wild gesture toward them. I still made no move to get out of the car, figuring that so long as I was inside him he couldn't really transform and walk out into the yard. "You guys are going to get us all into serious trouble if you're seen!"

Jazz sighed and I could hear some of his gears starting to shift. _"I mean I'll try but they kinda hard t'talk to when they like this."_

Parts of the vehicle around me started to relocate and I gripped my seat tightly, looking around frantically. "Jazz what are you doing? Jazz _what are you doing_?" I demanded when my seat moved back.

The floor beneath me split open, and then my chair tilted downward. When my seatbelt released, I was dumped unceremoniously to the gravel driveway.

_"__Jazz_!" I hissed indignantly, pushing myself back to my knees.

This was not helping my bruises and scratches in the least.

"Sorry little miss." He helped pick me up to my feet, then turned and headed for the backyard where everyone was having their stupid little meeting.

I groaned in exasperation and stood alone in the alley for a few seconds before following the robots and Mikaela into Sam's yard, cursing the lot of them and their lack of patience. They'd been searching for thousands and thousands of years for the All Spark. You think they could have waited five more minutes.

Mikaela was running towards Sam, who was facing Ironhide with something that looked like a little dog in his arm. Ironhide was towering above the two, pointing his cannons at Sam, or the dog. I couldn't tell which.

"You have a rodent infestation. Shall I terminate?" Ironhide asked gruffly. I ran up on the other side of Sam and finally saw that Sam was holding a Chihuahua with a broken leg. I'd be mad a little rat-dog like that too.

"No! No, no. He's not a rodent. He's a Chihuahua. A _Chihuahua._ We, we _love_ Chihuahuas, don't—don't we?" Sam asked, turning to Mikaela and I.

Even though Mikaela nodded mechanically, I just grimaced. "Chihuahuas suck."

Sam gave me a betrayed look. "Kat—Kat you're killing me here. You're literally killing me right now."

"He's leaked lubricants all over my foot!" Ironhide insisted with a non-committal grunt, still pointing his whirring cannons at the small dog. The Chihuahua didn't seem to be fazed by the giant robot towering above him and his owner.

"He—he peed on you? Bad! Bad Mojo! _Bad Mojo_!" Sam scolded the dog, shaking him at Ironhide's foot.

"Bad Mojo!" Ironhide scolded too, putting away his cannons.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my brow. "Is this happening? Is this for real? Is this real life?" I muttered to myself.

Mikaela put a hand on my shoulder. "Hey are you alright?"

It startled me, but I tried not to show it. I looked up at her and pulled my hand away from my head long enough to respond. "Oh yeah. Fine. Just probably having an aneurism out of sheer stupidity, that's all."

She looked legitimately concerned and I had to stop myself from laying down on the ground to die. "I'm joking."

"Oh."

"I told you guys to watch them!" Sam berated us suddenly, making me look up.

"What did you expect us to do, Sam? They're three times our size! We couldn't exactly stand in front of them and tell them to sit. And I don't think I could have held on to them and dragged them back to the road," I snapped.

Sam lifted his hands and sighed in exasperation. "Yeah—okay—sure, that's true I guess. Whatever I just—"

Optimus stomped up to Sam and leaned down slightly. "We must find the glasses, Sam! We are running out of time," he reminded him, indicating with his hand. Everyone was just loitering in the very large yard of Sam's.

It looked like it was a pretty nice yard before all of this, too. Pity, really. It had a fountain and really nice grass and a path—well, it used to. Big robots walking around wasn't really that great for the lawn and it was in disarray. Plants were everywhere, and the fountain was actually destroyed. It must have been the crash that I heard earlier.

"Shh! Shh! Shut up and hide!" Sam demanded.

"Just hurry!" Optimus snapped as Sam ran into this house and dropped the wounded dog on the floor. He disappeared into the interior of the house and Mikaela and I were left with the robots.

"Autobots, recon!" Optimus ordered quietly, walking around to the side of the house. Bumblebee ducked down under some sort of porch awning, knocking around the lit lanterns hanging decoratively, and peeked in a window. I didn't see where the others went.

"Jazz! Oh my god are you serious! You guys are going to be _seen_! You guys are the dumbest smart robots I have ever met!" I whined as quietly as possible, throwing my hands up. I didn't care if it was the middle of the night, neighborhoods like this always had that one nosy neighbor who saw everything.

He turned to me and crouched to get to my eye level. "Why don'tchu and her go help 'im search? Might get done faster," Jazz suggested.

"That's a great idea," Optimus agreed, walking back around to Mikaela and I. He lowered his hand so we could climb on. I stared at the hand uneasily and backed up a pace. "Nah, I'll stay down here and keep an eye on you bozos."

Mikaela shrugged and climbed up without hesitation. "Alright, I'll try to move this along, just. . . keep them quiet, I guess?" She shrugged, sitting down on Optimus' open palm. The noise Optimus' arms made when he moved them brought Sam to the window to investigate and I saw his head poke out the window.

Even down two stories I could hear Sam and Mikaela argue about something, but I could only make out parts of it. Sam definitely sounded almost hysterical.

"Please, hurry," Optimus urged before pulling away from the window.

I stepped out of the way so he didn't crush me when he made his way around the house. I spun in a circle and put a hand on top of my head. "You guys are being ridiculous."

"It is very important that we get that Cube before the Decepticons," Ratchet pointed out, turning from the street he had been scanning. Ironhide was posted up at the edge of the property, watching our six or whatever they called it.

"Well this isn't going to help! You're just stressing _everyone_ out and teenagers usually don't work so well under pressure!"

Jazz kneeled with one arm resting on his knee and gestured with his hand. "Wha' would ya have us do, little miss?" he asked sincerely. I appreciated him at least taking me seriously, I just wished everyone else did, too.

At first I wasn't sure what I wanted. I looked around as if the answer was going to be somewhere nearby, then just sighed. "I don't know! Go back to your vehicle modes! You obviously can't help them search for the glasses from out here and you're only proving to be a distraction—and a liability. Someone's going to see."

The Autobots turned to me and I felt my chest swell with pride a little bit. They were actually listening to me for once!

"So just—go back and sit and wait. Sam will find the glasses and then it'll all be okay!"

Optimus nodded his head and signaled. "As you wish. Autobots, transform," he commanded.

Finally! I sighed with relief and my shoulders relaxed a little bit. This was going to be so much quicker with them being quiet, with them out of sight. . . . And hopefully if no one had seen them yet, they wouldn't know.

The relief quickly faded first to confusion, then to horror, then to unadulterated anger when they transformed _right there in the yard_. All of them sat askew, idling on the grass.

"I swear to god I'm going to find a wrench and dismantle every one of you," I hissed through clenched teeth, running my fingers through my hair and pulling. It ruined my topknot, but something about the pain of pulling my hair made me feel just a little bit better.

The noises from their transformation brought both Sam and Mikaela to the window and Sam made a distressed sound, making me look up at him.

"No no no! This isn't hiding! This _isn't_ hiding! This is my backyard, not a truck stop!" Sam whisper-yelled to the cars on the backyard, putting a hand on his head. "Kat what did you do! This isn't what—"

I pointed my hand up at him and glared. "Shut up Sam! It's not my fault they weren't programmed with some common sense!"

He groaned loudly and they both disappeared back into Sam's room to continue looking.

For a moment I just glared at the open window, then I rounded on the cars and kicked the tire nearest to me—Ironhide's. He shook and grunted in surprise, but I cut off whatever he was going to say. "Go to the _road_! Do not _drive through the grass_! Stay _quiet_ and pretend to be cars!" I demanded.

Optimus transformed and looked at me with his head turned slightly. "We cannot properly protect the area from our vehicle modes."

"_Ugh whatever_! _I'll_ go get the stupid glasses!"

As I stormed toward the front of the house, I could hear them all changing back to their natural forms and I had to resist the urge to throw something heavy in their general direction.

"How you gon' do that?" Jazz called softly.

"You said you heard about the glasses from eBay? Well I'm going to start there!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

It was late, I couldn't deny that. I wasn't sure if they would even answer the door, but I had to try. I hesitated just a moment longer, then rang the doorbell. The chime echoed throughout the house and I thought I heard someone swearing inside.

I couldn't hear the Autobots from the front of the house, and I just hoped whatever they were doing on the inside was loud enough that they couldn't hear anything, either.

The fact that they hadn't come out to investigate yet was a good sign.

Finally, just when I was about to ring the doorbell again, a slightly chubby short dude with a receding hairline answered. He had a glass of what I assumed was wine, or maybe champagne, in one hand and at first he didn't seem too happy to be answering the door.

"—any idea what time. . . . Who're you?" he demanded with a flick of his head.

Nervously I gently patted my recently-fixed topknot and summoned up my best smile. "Hello, um. . . can I speak to a Mr. Sam Witwicky?" I asked sweetly.

"It Wit—oh." I could imagine he was used to people mispronouncing such a weird name. He recovered quickly though and leaned against the door, eyes narrowed slightly. "Why? What did my son do this time?"

I'd rehearsed this while I was walking around the house to the front door. I hadn't had much time, but I felt like I could pull this off.

"Oh, nothing, sir! He just advertised a few things on eBay that I was interested in buying, but I insisted that I be able to see them first," I recited, pulling up my phone and showing him the exact page where the glasses showed up for sale.

As I said it, I realized just how many holes there were in the story, and just hoped he didn't poke at them.

Sam's dad stepped up and took my phone from me, peering at the screen. If he had noticed the holes in my story, he was too distracted to ask questions. "That little—Never mind. Why are you here so late?"

"I know, I'm sorry, I just can't make it any earlier most days because of work. He told me it would be fine, I'm really sorry if it's not, I didn't know—"

He waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. "Nothing can be done about that now. I can't believe he put this stuff up online to sell! You know these are family heirlooms? Dating back to my grandfather's dad?" he demanded.

I hadn't expected him to be angry about it. I recoiled slightly away from him, feeling my face redden. "I—I didn't know that." It was a lie, but I was supposed to be a stranger.

"Ron? Ron who's at the door!" a female voice called.

A red-headed lady popped up behind Ron's shoulder and we made brief eye contact. "Oh! Hello! Are you one of Sam's lady friends?" she asked.

"No, I just wanted to buy—"

"Damn," she sighed.

Though I wanted to know what she meant by that, her husband stepped up and waved my phone in front of her face. "Sam's selling those family heirlooms I gave him!"

Sam's mom swayed a little bit—she, too, was holding a glass of wine—and grabbed my phone to look at it a little better. "Oh jeez. Why don't you come in, miss? We can go get Sam and make _him_ disappoint you?" She handed my phone back and I stowed it in my pocket.

My heart had dropped and now all I wanted to do was run and hide. This had gone so wrong. I don't know why I imagined that I would just walk up to their house, ask to buy all the stupid stuff Sam was selling, and have them just bring it out to me on a tray. Why would anything be _that_ easy?

"Oh—no I mean, if they're not for sale, I understand. I had no idea they were—"

"Nonsense! Get in here! You came all the way and I'm gonna make Sam fix this!" she insisted, pulling the door from her husband's grip and swinging it wide open.

I glanced between the two, looked around for the Autobots—nowhere to be seen—then sighed in defeat and nodded. Ron moved out of the way and I followed his wife into the house proper. "Alright, I guess I could come in for a little bit."

Sam had a pretty nice house. His mom had pretty decent decorating sense. I wondered what his parents did that made them capable of affording such nice things, but I wasn't about to ask something personal like that. Various artsy knickknacks served as centerpieces, and everything was so modern. It was crowded, but not too crowded. Red accents like curtains broke the beige monotony of the walls and furniture.

"You have a very lovely home," I murmured more to myself than to anyone.

She still heard me, though. "Why thank you! Go ahead and have a seat, I'll get Sam."

I did as I was told and sat down in a cushy beige chair, hands folded in my lap. Ron sat on the couch and leaned way back, sipping at his glass of wine, while his wife moved to the stairs by the kitchen. "Sam! Sam get your ass down here!"

_That_ took me by surprise, mostly because my parents were super against swearing—not that it stopped me from dropping some when they weren't around—but these people _had _been drinking. Of course, not everyone could be like my parents. . . .

She shouted up to him one more time, then shook her head and walked back to sit on the couch. "Honestly! I don't know about that kid sometimes," she sighed, taking a sip of her drink. "I'm sure he'll just be a moment. I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here for nothing, dear!"

I shook my head and smiled. "Oh, it's no trouble, really."

"What did you want that old stuff for, anyway?" Ron asked.

Crap, what was my lie for this? "Uh—my, father, is really into sailing and stuff, y'know? I thought authentic old sailing gear would really. . . be a good gift for his birthday." Somehow I managed not to fumble over my words too much.

He nodded. "That's kind of you."

I just shrugged and looked down at my hands. "Gotta—do nice things for your parents every once in a while, right?"

Ron chuckled and opened his mouth to reply, but the house shook suddenly, and the lights flickered. Ron's wife held her arms out to steady herself and I pushed myself further into my chair, looking around wildly.

I didn't know how, but I figured this was the Autobot's doing.

"Get down! Earthquake!" Ron yelled, getting up out of his spot on the couch and hobbling around to the kitchen table. His wife made no real move to do any of that, though. "Get under the table! Judy get under the table, hurry!"

His wife—Judy—leaned to look around the wall, her brow furrowed. "How did you get down there so fast?"

"Was that even a real Earthquake?" I asked, looking around. I was just glad that nothing had been knocked off a shelf and broken. Wait—did Nevada get Earthquakes? I didn't think so, and Judy didn't look at me weird, so obviously not. . . ?

"I don't think so," she replied, adjusting a little sculpture that had been knocked askew.

The lights flickered again, but this time when they turned off they stayed off. Ron crawled out from under the table, swearing quietly, and then fished around in one of the kitchen drawers. "Where's that flashlight, Judy?"

"It's out here!" she called back, getting up and walking around to a cabinet behind the TV. Ron joined her just as she pulled a big flashlight from the cabinet and took it from her, flicking it on. Judy replaced it with a wooden bat that was leaning against the wall, and that kind of concerned me a little bit.

Did she think we were under attack? If we were, what did she think she was going to do with a _bat_ when the entire house had shaken?

"Stay here, uh—what was your name again?" he asked.

"Kat."

"Yeah—stay here, Kat. We're gonna go make sure Sam is okay and drag him down here to talk to you." It sounded like a suggestion more than a demand, but I just nodded and made myself comfortable in that plush chair.

It lasted about half a minute before I felt uncomfortable sitting in that dark room by myself, so I got up and followed them up the stairs.

I stayed a few steps behind them, worried that they were going to find out about the Autobots. Ron called out for Sam, lighting the way with the flashlights. We turned down the hallway and a bright blue light leaked from beneath a door at the end of the hallway.

Really the only thing I could assume was that it was the Autobots. What were they doing up here? Having a party?

"Sammy?" Sam's mom called once they were right outside the door.

"Sam? Sam what's that light?" his dad demanded, rapping his fist against the door. He turned his head to listen for an answer, but got none.

It was very obvious _someone _was in the room. I could hear Sam whispering feverently, could hear him shuffling around. The light continued to seep under the doorway and I rubbed my forehead in frustration.

"Sam are you in here?" He tried to open the door, but it was locked. Ron turned toward it and shouted through the barrier again. "Sam? Sam, why is this door locked? You know the rule! No doors locked in my house!"

Judy stepped up, holding the bat against her chest. "You _know _he'll start counting if you don't open th—"

"Five!"

"Oh dear!" Judy groaned, rolling her eyes. "Here we go!"

"Time's running out pal! Four!"

"He's counting!"

"Better hurry!"

It was so odd, hearing these two interact with themselves and their son. It made my chest tighten just a little bit as I thought about my own parents. They usually didn't have to even start counting—just threaten to _begin_ counting before I did what they wanted. I never learned what exactly the consequences were, but I'd never wanted to find out, either.

"Just unlock the door!" Judy pleaded again.

"Two! It's coming off the hinges!" Ron threatened.

"He's counting, Sam!"

Ron took a small step back and his muscles tensed. "Better stand back!"

I actually took a small step back, eyes widening. For a moment I thought about intervening because I wasn't sure this man wouldn't hurt himself if he tried to kick down the door, but before he could even finish the word "one", the door swung open and Sam stared out at us, panting slightly.

"Sup?" he said breathily, eyeing his mom. "What's with the bat?"

"Who were you talking to?" his dad demanded.

So he had heard the whispering, too. I tried my best to hide behind his parents, not trusting Sam to keep his mouth shut about knowing me.

His eyes fell on me for just a moment. He looked surprised, but I shook my head and hoped he wouldn't say anything. Sam recovered after a spell and turned his gaze back to his parents. "I'm talking to you."

"Why are you all sweaty and filthy?" Sam's mom asked.

"I'm a child, Mom. You know, a teenager." He didn't miss a beat on this one, and I wondered if they had this kind of banter all the time.

"We heard voices and noises, and we thought maybe you—," his mom began.

"Doesn't matter what we thought. What was that light?" his dad interrupted, shoving past Sam and into his room. Sam attempted to stop him, but there was no stopping this man it seemed, and if they were like parents you didn't tell them "no" without raising suspicion.

"What light, Dad? There was no—You got a flashlight in your hands! It must have bounced—" Sam tried to maneuver around his dad, and I just stood in the doorway, peering inside and glancing at the windows. There were no visible Autobots, and I couldn't even see where Mikaela was.

The room was definitely a boy's room, though. I couldn't see the whole thing, but from the doorway I could see a plastic basketball hoop, a giant foam globe, some posters, and clothes everywhere. Even from the doorway I could tell his room was huge, too.

"There was a light!"

"Look, you guys cannot just bounce in here whenever you want to! You have to knock, you have to communicate!" Sam argued angrily.

"We did! We knocked for five minutes! The door was locked!" Came Ron's rebuttal.

"No, you didn't knock, you were screaming at me, ok?"

"No!" his mom sighed.

"This is my place, and this is oppression that you're doing here." Sam flailed his arms wildly for emphasis, and I sighed quietly to myself. He was being too defensive, and that was incriminating. "You're ruining my youth!"

"Oh for Pete's sake! God, why are you so defensive, tonight? Were you. . . ," Sam's mom hesitated for a second. "Masturbating?"

Silence.

"Judy. . . ," Sam's dad warned. Both he and Sam had turned to stare at poor Judy.

I had to stifle a snort by biting one of the knuckles of my index finger. That didn't stop the grin from breaking out across my face, but it was more out of awkwardness than amusement, and I felt embarrassed _for_ him.

To Sam's credit, though, his face didn't even redden a little bit. It was already a little flushed from all of the stress, though, so maybe I just couldn't tell.

"Was I master—_no_, Mom!"

"That's private, Judy."

Sam's mom rolled her eyes and pushed a strand of hair from her face. "It's okay!"

"I don't masterba—"

"It's not something for you to bring up. That's father-son talk."

Sam pointed at his dad and nodded. "Father and son!"

"We don't have to call it that word if that's what makes you uncomfortable!" Judy offered. I bit my lip and spun slightly, disappearing from the doorway to push my back against a wall. At least his parents were cool about it, I couldn't even imagine what _my_ parents would have done. . . we hadn't ever really had _the talk_.

They just kind of—trusted me, I guess. My mom had tried to talk to me about that kind of stuff before, but I'd just brushed her off and told her I'd learned it all from school already. I assumed it was uncomfortable for everyone.

"You could call it. . . Sam's. . . Happy Time, or—"

Ron sounded flabbergasted. "Happy Time? Judy stop!"

"—my Special, Alone Time. . . ."

"Judy!"

". . . with myself."

"Mom you can't—!"

I couldn't remember talking with my parents like this. Maybe it was because I was a girl, maybe it was because I'd never really had a reason to keep them out of my room. We'd been pretty open with each other, or at least I'd been open with my Mom. Once I'd hit puberty my dad kind of took a back seat to helping me with problems unless it was homework.

"I'm sorry! It's been a weird night, I've had a little bit to drink. . . ."

Another tremor racked the house and I gasped, pressing myself firmly against the wall. I wasn't sure what this one was about, or what the Autobots could possibly be doing to make the whole house shake—were they slamming into it? Trying to find the glasses by picking up the entire house? Honestly. . . .

"Earthquake! Get in the doorway! Aftershock!" Ron shouted. He sounded further away, so I assumed he had moved deeper into Sam's room.

The lights flickered back on and I stumbled into the room proper, looking around. An orgy of evidence that this was a boy's room hit me, but I didn't have time to admire his shoddy decorating skills. My eye caught a nifty little tank with goldfish in it, but it seemed like the water needed to be changed. Desperately. Poor fish.

"Oh the lights are back on!" Judy gasped. She glanced around and shook her head. "Your floor is filthy, Sam!"

Ron hurried over to the window to assess the damage of the yard and I prayed that the Autobots were out of sight. I jumped when Sam grabbed my arm and pulled me in close by my shirt. "What are you doing hanging out with my parents?" he demanded through clenched teeth, glancing at the two in question.

I shrugged out of his grasp and straightened my shirt. "I was posing as a potential buyer, but your parents are very upset with you for trying to sell your great-great-grandpa's effects," I replied indignantly.

"Kat, when did you get up here?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Um." I glanced around nervously and rubbed my fingers. "I got nervous sitting downstairs by myself and I heard shouting. . . ." Wait that hadn't been the question.

Three wasn't time to correct myself, though. Ron had his sights on Sam now. His dad pointed an accusing finger at him. "You have a lot of explaining to do, young man. Why were you selling—"

"That doesn't matter right now! You were talking to someone and we want to know who!" Sam's mom demanded, marching up to stand next to her husband. She was still holding onto that bat like it was going to save her life against the tremors.

Mikaela stood up then, catching everyone's attention. Judy finally let the bat fall from her ready-to-swing pose and put a hand on her son's shoulder, as if she needed to keep herself steady. I wondered how much wine she'd had to feel like that. Sam looked like he was about to curl into a ball and die, but I was glad these shenanigans were coming to an end.

"Hey. I'm Mikaela. I'm. . . I'm a friend of Sam's," she introduced herself.

To my surprise, they weren't at all upset about it. In fact, Judy actually giggled and shook Sam's shoulder vigorously. Like they were proud. If I'd been caught with a strange boy in _my_ room, I wouldn't have seen the light of day for the next ten years.

Maybe, again, that was because I'm a girl.

"Gosh you are gorgeous!" Judy complimented.

"She can hear you talking, Mom," Sam sighed. He mechanically tapped knuckles with his dad to appease him, and Mikaela muttered a quiet "thank you", smiling awkwardly.

Suddenly, Judy looked horrified. "Oh my god! I'm sorry you had to hear our family discussion! Kat—Kat how much did you hear? Oh lord I'm so sorry," she apologized glancing over at me.

"Huh? Oh nothing what discussion? I came up after the second tremor," I lied, trying to look confused. When they looked away from me, I raised my eyebrows at Sam coyly. Now he looked like he was ready to jump out his own window to escape this whole scenario. Mikaela just smiled and tilted her head, looking properly composed.

"Sam!" Judy declared, startling me and her son. "You tell this nice lady here that she can't buy your trinkets!"

"Yes what were you thinking, putting those up on eBay? That's your heritage right there!" Ron chimed in, turning toward his son. I quietly edged around them and stood next to Mikaela, who looked at me questioningly.

I just shook my head.

"Yeah, okay! I'll tell her! But where's my backpack? Have you seen it?" he demanded, turning her by her shoulder and ushering both of his parents out of his room.

"Oh yeah, it's in the kitchen!"

My eyes narrowed and I glanced over at Mikaela. "Did he ever think to look _outside_ of his room?" I whispered.

She shook her head and sighed. "No, apparently not."

"At least it's over now," I groaned. I glanced over my shoulder one more time before we left the room, hoping that the Autobots would make themselves scarce long enough for us to get the glasses and leave.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello readers!**

**I'd like everyone to know that I do not have a problem with Chihuahuas, I think they're freaking adorable. Especially the fluffy ones. 3**

**The next chapter will be up soon! Just gotta make some edits!**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven<p>

"Excuse me, where's the bathroom?" I asked halfway down the stairs. Sam made a bee-line for the kitchen and Mikaela followed after him, but I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited for an answer.

Judy was the one who turned and pointed. "Right down there, dear!"

I smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

When they had their backs turned, I dipped into the hallway and slipped silently through the back door into the destroyed yard. I glanced and turned around where I stood, looking for the Autobots, but none of them were in sight.

Shaking my head, I sighed. "Now you learned the meaning of _stealth_," I muttered.

Better late than never I decided as I quickly jogged back across the yard where the cars had all parked when we first arrived. I spotted my pile of things in the middle of the gravel and quickly gathered them all up.

"Dump my stuff on the ground. . . inconsiderate robots. . . ," I grumbled to myself as I made my way back to the house.

The stupid Chihuahua started yapping when I walked into the house this time and I quickly shushed him while shoving my things into my purse, stuffing it as full as I could so I didn't look weird carrying around a bunch of grocery bags. I should have bought a back pack.

"Mojo! Don't bark at our guest!" Judy reprimanded the dog, scooping him up off the floor before putting him up on some sort of bed they had for him by a window.

Sam turned and pointed at me. "Mom don't let her near him she hates Chihuahuas!"

She gasped and put a hand to her chest. "What?"

Sighing, I shot Sam a sour look and shook my head. "I don't _hate_ Chihuahuas."

"You said they suck!"

"I just prefer big dogs! You can't hug a Chihuahua without crushing it!" I shot back, storming after him into the kitchen. "And a Chihuahua isn't going to protect you from a big scary home invader!"

Judy remained in the living room, cooing to the dog. I wondered what exactly had happened that he broke his leg. "Don't listen to her! You're an adorable little doggy!"

"Sam! I want those things off of the internet tonight!" Ron shouted from in the living room. I could hear the faint drone of the TV, but I couldn't tell what was playing. "Apologize to the nice lady for wasting her time!"

He groaned, but turned to shout back. "Whatever you say Dad!"

We stood in the kitchen for a moment and Sam glared at me. "What did you tell my Dad about this stuff?" he demanded.

"Nothing! _You _weren't getting any result so I thought I'd pretend to be interested in buying them! I thought maybe there'd be a better chance of finding them! How was I supposed to know you were selling them behind your parents' backs?" I hissed through clenched teeth.

"Whatever it doesn't matter, I got them!" Sam exclaimed. I turned around and Sam was holding up a pair of cracked, old spectacles. They looked very unassuming, but the Autobots seemed to think that there was something to them. "Okay you guys wanna go distract my parents while I sneak out and give them the glasses?"

Not even seconds later, before either of us could respond, someone rang the door rapidly, trying hard to get our attention. We all turned toward the door and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

"Who could be here this late?" Sam asked to no one in particular.

"Probably no one we want to see," I muttered. "Just go around the back?"

When no one immediately answered the door, the doorbell rang several times in a row once more, insistently. Whoever was on the other side didn't have much patience. Sam, Mikaela, and I peeked around the corner to see what was going on.

Ron opened the door, and faced the skinny, gangly man in the doorway. "Ron Wikicky?" the man asked, smiling a big, fake smile.

"It's Witwicky. Who are you?" Ron demanded.

"Agent Simmons of the government, Sector Seven," the man said, showing off a shiny silver badge.

"Never heard of it," Sam's father replied skeptically.

"Never will."

We all shared a glance and I felt my heart constrict—all of my worst fears. The government had finally come knocking. I knew the Autobots wouldn't have gone unnoticed. Those meteors crashing to Earth weren't very inconspicuous, and their shenanigans at this house were downright embarrassing.

"Is your son the great-great-grandson of Captain Archibald Wilkicky?" the man, Simmons, continued, leaning forward to look in the house.

"It's _Witwicky_!"

"May I enter the premises, sir?" the man asked, getting face-to-face with Ron.

We retreated back into the kitchen, me ushering them all backwards, and the two teens stared at me, bewildered. "What's going on?" Same whispered.

I glanced over my shoulder and swore quietly. "The government is here, they _know_. We have to sneak out of here somehow and get to the Autobots," I explained in undertone, glancing out the windows. I could see shapes outside.

We were trapped.

"Ronald! Ronald there are men in suits _everywhere_!" Judy complained, passing by the kitchen entrance. Once again she had that wooden bat in her grasp and she definitely looked ready to bash someone's skull in.

"Can you stay off the grass?" Ron demanded angrily, leaning out of an open door that lead to the backyard.

I turned to Sam and Mikaela. "Is there any other way to leave the house?" I asked.

Sam shook his head. "We have to go through there, they'll see us. And there are government agents _everywhere_. We're not getting out of here," he said quietly, looking like he was about ready to just lay down and die.

"Make sure you get samples!" Simmons commanded, pointing around.

"Oh, Ron! They're pulling the bushes out of the ground! The bushes! Oh _hell_!" I could hear Judy yelling about more things, and I heard some pot in the back yard being shattered.

"Ma'am, I need you to drop the bat. I am carrying a _loaded_ weapon," Simmons was pointing out. I could only imagine that Judy had probably attacked him. Maybe not outright, but she had that bat earlier. . . .

"You better get those men out of my garden or I will kick the _crap_ outta them!" she spat. Once again the three of us shared glanced and headed toward the front of the house.

Had to step in before Sam's parents got in real trouble.

"Ma'am, are you experiencing any flu-like symptoms? Sore throat? Aching joints?" Simmons asked her.

"No!"

We made it out into the living room with Sam in the lead. The Simmons guy and one other agent were in the house, and they looked at us when we stepped down the little landing into the living room. "What's going on?" Sam asked.

"Hi! How ya doing, son?" Simmons greeted him cheerily, throwing the wooden bat to a suited man next to him. Apparently Judy _had_ tried to hit him with it. "Are you Sam?"

Sam hesitated. I shook my head, hoping he wouldn't answer, but he did. "Yeah."

"I'm going to need you to come with me," Simmons informed him, motioning with a hand and taking a step toward him.

Ron and Judy took up defensive positions in front of Sam.

"Woah, woah! That is way outta line," Ron warned him. Mojo waddled up in front of Ron and started to bark at Simmons.

"Sir, I am asking politely. Back off."

"Why do you need to take Sam? Under what charges?" Judy demanded angrily.

"You aren't going to take our son," Ron insured the government man, holding his hand up as if to keep Simmons back.

"Oh really? Are you going to get rough with us?" Simmons bated, taking a step forward.

"No, but I _am_ going to call the cops, because there is something fishy about this whole operation you've got going here!" Ron threatened him, standing up straighter to look more intimidating.

I leaned forward slightly and lifted a hand. "See that's a good idea, Ron. Go and call the cops and have them come out here," I demanded, shouldering past Sam.

Though I felt eyes fall to me, I didn't falter.

"Technically, you can't do anything to us without a warrant, and if you can't show us a judge-issued warrant for arrest or search, you should just leave this man's private property right now and come back when you do!" I continued. I could feel my face heating up.

Mikaela and Sam looked at me.

"What? I watch a lot of Law and Order," I whispered, turning my head to hide the blush.

"We are above the law! This badge here says so," Simmons countered with wild eyes, showing us all his shiny little badge. "I think there's something fishy about you, your son, your little Taco Bell dog, and the operation _you_ have going here."

"What operation?" Ron demanded, looking confused and angry. Judy picked up Mojo and cradled him to her chest.

"That, sir, is what we are trying to find out."

"You still can't just bust into the neighborhood and start ripping up bushes and flowers and bagging them! You need a _warrant_ signed by a _judge_, or your search here is in violation of our Sixth Amendment rights! You could be sent to jail! I don't care what branch of the government you are, you have no right to disrupt their family living without good reason!" I shouted angrily.

I really had no clue what the Sixth Amendment was, but I thought I sounded pretty smart using it right then. I knew the Fifth Amendment was the rights accused get, so the sixth had to do with something about the law, too. Whatever I was on a roll.

Simmons trained his gaze on me and furrowed his brow in thought. "And who are you, Ms. Criminal Intent?"

"That doesn't matter! Any Joe Blow off the street can get a badge off of the internet and claim to be with the government. If we haven't heard of you, then we don't need to listen to you!" I practically shouted. My heart was beating hard against my chest and I could feel my face flush. I wasn't used to this kind of conflict outside of irate customers at work.

The "government" guy narrowed his eyes. "Name. Now."

I hesitated, squared my shoulders, and huffed. Try as I might, false bravado was all I could muster. "Kathryn Walker!"

Simmons' eyes widened. "As in the daughter of Kyle Walker?"

"How do you know my dad?" I demanded, pointing an accusing finger at him. Dad had never mentioned anything about something named "Sector Seven" or any government agency like it. One we hadn't heard of and "never would". He'd always just told me that he did background checks for the government, not that he was some sort of _agent_.

"Walkers have worked for us since we were established. Sector Seven often hires within a bloodline. How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?" he asked.

"Twenty-two," I snorted indignantly. No way I looked _that_ young.

"Kat you _know_ these people?" Sam demanded.

I turned and shook my head furiously. "I've never heard of them! I don't know what he's talking about! My dad said he did _background checks_!"

He shifted uneasily, as if he hadn't been expecting that. "Must have asked the higher-ups not to recruit you." Though I heard him, it seemed more like he was talking to himself. He paused, confused, then shook his head and gave me a grave look. "We were all upset when we heard about his death."

"I don't need your sympathy," I spat crossly, looking down and away from him. Some people had come to the funeral saying they were work friends, but I didn't recognize Simmons or the goon standing next to him.

Somehow I had to put the pieces together. Sometimes he'd be gone for a couple days on business meetings, but he never had long nights, his relationship with Mom was steady. . . had he been telling the truth? Maybe he did do background checks for this Sector Seven. And my great-grandfather, this Captain Walker, had worked for them, so if they hired family it kidn of made sense.

So then, why hadn't _I_ ever heard of them, if they "hired within a bloodline"?

A balding man walked up to Simmons and caught his attention. Simmons took his gaze away from me and looked down at the shorter man. "I think _direct_ contact," the guy muttered to him. Simmons eyes widened and the man nodded his head once.

Contact?

Simmons walked forward, holding out small box and a sensor that was handed to him. "Sir, ladies, will you step forward, please?" he addressed the three of us, holding the sensor out towards us.

Sam stepped forward, pushing out from behind Ron, and I snapped out of my own thoughts. I reached for Sam's shirt, but he moved out of my reach and I swore quietly. "Sam! _No_! Don't do _anything_ until they have a warrant!"

But it was too late for that. Simmons first held the sensor out to Sam, slowly moving it up and down the length of his body. The box clicked frantically and Simmons stared at it, slightly irritated. Then he stepped forward and waved it in front of Mikaela and I. When the machine started up again, he took a breath and his eyes widened.

"Fourteen rads! Bingo! Tag 'em and bag 'em!" Simmons declared, walking away.

Men swarmed around us and grabbed everyone by the arms, pulling and manhandling. Someone took Mojo from Judy's arm and carried him off, too. I pulled my arm from the grip of some goon and stumbled backwards. "Under what charges!"

The man moved on me again and dragged me out of the house. "Let go of me right now! I demand it!"

However, he had no intention of doing so and slapped some icy-cold handcuffs on me, forcibly twisting my arms around my back. I hissed in pain through clenched teeth. "You are in violation of my rights!"

"If you hurt my dog, I'll kick your ass!" I heard Judy yell.

"Sam! Don't say anything!"

"Yeah!" Sam replied.

"Not a word until we get a lawyer!" Ron yelled before he was shoved into a car.

"They can't use anything we say here in court! We haven't been mirandized yet!" I yelled angrily. I was beginning to realize why my father hadn't mentioned these people to me, or let them "recruit me." They were all a bunch of assholes.

As I realized that I wasn't going to be able to talk my way out of this, panic rose in my chest and I glanced furtively around for a familiar car.

Without thinking, I cried out for help. "Jazz! _Jazz_!"

But I couldn't see his familiar form, nor I could see any of the other Autobots on the street. What a time to figure out how to not be seen.

Sam, Mikaela, and I were shoved into the same car, Mikaela on the far right, Sam in the center, and me on the far left. We were all in handcuffs, and it wasn't very comfortable sitting in a chair with your arms behind your back. I couldn't even get my seatbelt on.

"You're are all going to be in big trouble!" I growled under my breath, leaning forward and glaring at Simmons intensely.

Simmons waited to address us while he gave the driver some directions. The car Sam's parents were in took off in one direction, and the rest of the group of cars headed in another. Once we were out of the neighborhood and on a stretch of open road, he turned and examined me for moment, then asked "Who's Jazz?"

I turned my gaze away from him and muttered under my breath, "My very large friend."

He took a breath and decided to ignore it, but not before sharing a significant glance with his driver. He turned back to the front and grabbed a bag in the glove compartment. "So, LadiesMan217. That _is_ you're eBay username, isn't it?" he asked, dumping a cell phone into the palm of his hand.

"Yeah, but, like, it was a typo and I ran with it," Sam explained defensively, looking at us.

"It's not a big deal," I muttered. Jeez this kid had high school geek written all over him.

"Is this you?" Simmons asked, holding the phone out to us. Sam's voice rang from the speakers. "Hello, my name is Sam Witwicky and my car is _alive_."

"Yeah, that sounds like LadiesMan," Mikaela agreed reluctantly.

"Last night at the station you told the officer that your car 'transformed.' Enlighten me," Simmons prompted, eyes glued to Sam.

Sam shook his head. "Here's what I said, okay. This is a total misunderstanding!" Sam argued. Mikaela nodded her agreement, her lips pursed into a thin line. "I said that my car was stolen. From me."

Simmons raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"From my home. But it's ok, cause it's back. It came back."

Mikaela glanced at him warily and shook her head a tiny bit before looking back to Simmons. "Well, not on its own it didn't!"

"Well no," Sam agreed quickly, his eyes wide.

"Cause cars can't do that. That would be crazy," Mikaela offered, laughing a forced, nervous laugh. Sam joined in with an equally strained laugh. Even Simmons and the driver joined in, but I just kept glaring at the seat in front of me.

Hoping and wishing that Jazz would come fetch me.

Did they even know we'd been taken?

"Oh, funny. That's real funny." Simmons said before he cut off the laughter and took up a serious face. "What do you kids know about aliens, huh?"

Sam and Mikaela stopped laughing and watched Simmons.

"What, you mean a Martian? Like ET? Ha. No," Sam replied.

"Yeah, it's an urban legend," Mikaela agreed, shaking her head.

Simmons looked at me expectantly and I tore my gaze away from the terribly interesting seat back in front of me to glare at him instead. Was I supposed to be pretending I knew nothing about aliens? What was the point? They already knew, that much was clear.

"Guess you'll find out if they come to get us," I replied menacingly, gritting my teeth. Sam and Mikaela glared at me.

"She doesn't mean that," Sam said quickly.

"I don't know why you guys are bothering talking to him. Just keep quiet and they have nothing against us," I advised.

Simmons narrowed his eyes and took fished his badge out of his pockets to wave it in front of our faces. "You see this? It's a do-whatever-I-want-and-get-away-with-it badge. I am going to lock you up_ forever._"

"Yeah?" Sam swallowed hard.

"Oh, god. You know what? Don't listen to him. He's just pissy 'cause he has to get back to guarding the mall," Mikaela hissed, glaring at Simmons. I tried to stifle my smirk, but didn't succeed very well. At least I wasn't the only one with a little bit of fight left in me.

Simmons snapped his head around to look at Mikaela. "You. In the training bra. Do not test me. Especially with your daddy's parole coming up."

"Parole? What?" Sam gasped.

"It's nothing, Sam," Mikaela insisted.

"Oh, grand theft auto, that's nothing?" Simmons countered.

"You know those cars my dad taught me to fix? They weren't always his."

"You—you stole cars?" Sam affirmed, looking taken aback.

"We couldn't always afford a babysitter, so sometimes Dad had to bring me along," Mikaela explained, glaring at Simmons.

If my hands weren't behind my back, I would have pulled out my hair. "Guys, come on now. He's using this to try to put a rift between us. It's common interrogation practices. None of this is important to the task at hand." I explained, glaring at Simmons.

They looked at me, but Sam still seemed uneasy and Mikaela looked mortified that we knew her dirty little secret. "Don't give him the satisfaction of arguing with each other."

The two teens looked down and away from each other. Well, it was a start.

Simmons glared at me with something between being irritated and impressed. However, he was still trying to rattle cages and get us to talk. "Sure, don't talk to me like she says. But if you don't want your dad to spend the rest of his natural life in prison, then it is _time _to_ talk_!"

Halfway through his speech, the special box they had used earlier started to click rapidly, alerting us to something. Then, a large object—a foot?—swung into the front of the car and slammed into it with enough force to bring us to a halt.

The car spun and I was thrown forward into the back of the driver's seat, then sideways into Sam. I thought I saw a flash of blue and red as we hit something again. I groaned and sat up, hoping that I'd managed not to hurt myself too bad in that collision. Had it been another car? Or maybe was it—

A light beamed in through the windows and I heard heavy footsteps outside the car. That would be our rescue party.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello readers!**

**This is gonna be the last chapter for a little while (like a week tops). I have to completely re-write the next couple of chapters from scratch and I need to focus on _Phantasm_, as well. I'll do my best to release both at the same time, but I make no promises!**

**I'd like to thank everyone that has written reviews! Each one makes me happy! Keep them coming!**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Twelve<p>

"What is _that_?" Simmons demanded, trying to look out the window and windshield. That bright blue-white light was shining down on us, blinding everyone in the car.

"Big, it's big!" the driver shouted fearfully.

I couldn't help but feel a little smug. "Tried tellin' 'em. Should'a just let us go and come back with a warrant," I muttered more to myself than to anyone in particular.

The car creaked as whatever Autobot was outside the car picked it up by the roof and let it hang there, swinging slightly. Glass rained into the car and I turned my head away. A buzz of yelps and curses and demands filled the car. No one could _see_ what it was that had us, but only Sam, Mikaela and I _knew_ what it was.

It felt like. . . an Optimus Prime. Unless I'd imagined that blue and red paint job.

"Shift your weight toward the front!" someone yelled.

All of the windows had been broken by now, except for some reason the windshields. The car continued to swing forward and backward, then the sound of metal ripping apart filled my ears. I let out a tiny little scream and tried to brace myself against something, then the roof was completely torn off. The rest of the car fell back to the earth, landing with a loud_ crash_.

Once again I was thrown around like I was inside a pinball machine, but besides feeling a little dizzy I wasn't particularly hurt. A little annoyed that they couldn't find a better way to do that, but I couldn't argue with results.

"Woah!" Simmons cried, looking up. The light flicked turned off and towering above us was Optimus Prime, still hanging onto the roof of the car. He grunted in irritation and tossed the roof of the car to the side.

"You yahoos are in trouble now," Sam said ominously, leaning toward Simmons and the driver. "Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you all to our friend. Optimus Prime."

Simmons and the driver first glanced back at the three us. I raised my eyebrows at them and shook my head, and then they turned to look at Optimus Prime and started to stand up in their seats. The driver pulled a small rifle from under the dashboard. Like that was going to help.

"Taking the children was a bad move," Optimus growled.

"Children?" I whispered dubiously. Whatever, I had to let it go. We were all probably children to these giant robots.

More and more Sector Seven agents were surrounding the car, all with their own guns. There was a lot more than I had originally thought there were, but I hadn't really seen how many cars had been following us. Each SUV could probably hold like seven guys, anyway.

I leaned toward Sam. "Where'd your parents go?"

Sam just shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Autobots, relieve them of their weapons," Optimus ordered.

My eyes widened and I flipped around in my seat, chest swelling with relief. Jazz was here somewhere! Ironhide, Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Jazz all came from behind, dropping down from an empty overpass bridge we had driven under earlier. I was actually quite proud that they'd waited for us to get into an uninhabited and empty part of the city.

"Freeze!" Ironhide ordered, flashing his cannons and showing his technological superiority over their little guns.

"Give me those!" Jazz demanded, extending his hand. It spun at the wrist and the guns the men were carrying shot out of their hands and sped to Jazz's—like a magnet. He held them up over his head and everyone turned to look at him—except the driver, who got a face full of gun. He put a hand to his head where it hit him and doubled over.

"Ah crap dude are you okay?" I asked, leaning toward him a little bit. I didn't know why I should care but it looked like it hurt.

He just nodded and put a hand up. Guy sure didn't _look_ okay but I had to remind myself that I didn't care anyway and turned back toward the Autobots. "Jazz, you came!" I gasped, trying to wriggle onto my knees to stand. It was hard with the dumb handcuffs.

"Wasn't gon' leave ya, little miss!" he assured me with a nod.

The Autobots corralled everyone in a circle around our car and deposited the guns in a pile behind Jazz. Optimus moved to the front and crouched down to his hands and knees so he was more eye level.

"Hi, there," Simmons greeted Optimus nervously, complete with a tiny wave. At least he had the state of mind to keep his hands up.

"You do not seem afraid. Are you not surprised to see us?" Optimus asked.

"Look, there are certain. . . S Seven protocols. I'm not authorized to communicate with you—except to tell you I'm not allowed to communicate with you," Simmons explained boldly, indicating to the bots around him.

"Get out of the car!" Optimus demanded angrily, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, yeah. Me? You want me to get out of the car—"

"Now!"

Simmons and the driver started, then they both turned around and climbed out of the car. "Ok, ok. I'm getting out of the car. See? Out of the car. That was nifty how you—how you put us down without really hurting us."

The doors on my side opened and I climbed out, smirking to myself and glancing at Simmons. "See? Shouldn't be assholes. Assholes get their comeuppance," I sneered at him.

When Mikaela climbed out of the impromptu convertible, she had her cuffs off. I could have sworn no one had removed them, and I was right. She grabbed Sam's hands and used a bobby pin to force the handcuffs open and pulled them off of him.

"So you get out of handcuffs, too, huh?" Sam asked incredulously.

Mikaela ignored him and removed my cuffs for me, too. I sighed with relief and rubbed the spot where the cuffs had grated against my wrist bones. "Thanks. God I hope I never have to wear handcuffs again."

"Hey, how're you doing?" I heard Simmons asked one of the Autobots.

"You weren't supposed to hear all that," Mikaela sighed, looking to us both.

I glanced at her. "Huh? Oh, the whole 'Dad steals cars' thing. Yeah I don't care. I don't know why Sam cares."

"No, no I don't care," he said, sounding like he was trying more to convince himself than anyone else. Sam started to walk away from her, then turned to face her when she followed after him.

"This is real!" Simmons gasped in the background.

"Sam, I have a record because I wouldn't turn my dad in. When have you ever had to sacrifice anything in your perfect little life?" Mikaela countered, staring Sam down. He swallowed and looked down.

"This is real! Really real!" Simmons gasped again.

I jumped in between them at that moment, unable to contain myself. They were being ridiculous. "Yeah? Sacrifice? We all have our own little problems, but there will be plenty of time to deal with that when we're out of here _alive. _So can we _please_ work on _this_ thing now and deal with your little personal problems later?" I demanded, motioning toward the giant robots standing ten feet away.

They looked down and shuffled uncomfortably. I had wanted to mention that at least they _had _parents, but I thought that would be overkill. Instead, I stalked off toward Simmons, leaving them to think about what I had just said. If I was supposed to be some sort of authority figure in this group, then I guess I had to start acting like it.

"Big guys. Big guys with big guns!" Simmons was muttering, spinning to look at all the big robots over him. All of the government officials had their hands up by their heads.

I marched straight up to him, my hands crossed over my chest. It was blazing hot during the day, but at night it seemed to get a little chilly, and my jacket was shoved into my purse which was God knew where.

"What's Sector Seven?" I demanded, making Simmons and his driver turn to face me.

"Let's just get something straight here. I ask the questions around here, _not you_, young lady!" Simmons cried, his hands still above his head. The driver looked equally as pissed, even with a blossoming bruise over his eye, but I wasn't sure why they were still trying to be macho men right now.

My brow knit together and I shook my head. "Oh no, if my _dad_ was part of you guys, I want to know what's going on!"

Simmons, however, just shook his head.

"How do you know about the aliens?" Mikaela asked suddenly, startling me. When did they get up here?

"What'd you do with my parents?" Sam prompted as well, standing next to us.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss—"

"Uh huh," Sam mumbled, stepping forward and digging around in Simmons' breast pocket. I leaned away so he could work better.

"Hey, if you touch me that's a federal offence," Simmons reported, glaring at Sam.

"Do-whatever-you-want-and-get-away-with-it badge, eh?" Sam said, flashing the badge in Simmons face.

"Yeah, brave now with his big alien friends over him," Simmons countered meekly.

"Where's Sector Seven?" Sam asked, examining the badge with Mikaela.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Simmons countered irately.

Sighing, I stormed forward and pointed at him. "What did my dad do for you guys while he worked there?" I demanded.

He gave me something like a sympathetic look and I wanted to smack it off of him. "Sorry Ms. Walker I can't talk to you about that right now—if you want to _join_ Sector Seven, though, that'd be a different story. . . ."

I snorted indignantly. "Please! You guys are nothing but _bullies_! I don't want any part of your organization!"

"Then I'm afraid I can't—"

Something like a plug popped off of Bumblebee's body and hit Simmons in the back of the head. I stumbled back in surprise, looking up. Simmons rubbed the part of his head that had been hit, looking confused, then fluids started to leak all over him. I let out another squeak and danced back even further, trying not to get splashed.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Simmons yelped.

"Very mature, Bumblebee. . . ," I snorted, rubbing at a wet spot on my pants. "What is this anyway? Stupid. . . alien lubricant or antifreeze or something?"

Mikaela was trying to hide her smile when she walked up to me. She put a hand on my shoulder and glanced over to Bumblebee. Sam was chortling quietly somewhere behind me and I wanted to smack him, too.

I wanted to smack a lot of people.

"Did you get any on you?" she asked.

"It's fine, probably. . . wash out," I sighed, rubbing my forehead.

"Bumblebee, stop lubricating the man!" Optimus sighed, sounding exasperated. I wondered if Bumblebee was the youngest member of the team or something.

"Get that thing to stop, eh!" Simmons demanded. Bumblebee did as he was told and shrugged at Optimus, as if trying to tell him he hadn't really meant it at all. I just shook my head and sighed. Childish robots. Great.

*:･ﾟ✧

Sam and Mikaela and I took some time, under the supervision of the Autobots, to gather up all of the present Sector Seven agents and handcuff each and every one of them. We sat them down on the sidewalk in a line where they weren't going to cause any trouble.

Mikaela stormed up to Simmons and the driver, who were standing by a light post. We had saved them for last. "Alright, take it off."

"What are you talking about?" Simmons asked, wiping his face clean of fluids.

"Your clothes. All of it. Off," Mikaela demanded, her hands on her hips.

"For what?"

Mikaela paused. "For threatening my dad."

"No!" Simmons refused forcefully.

I walked up next to Simmons and motioned Jazz to come a little closer, and he complied, folding his arms over his chest menacingly. "If you won't do it yourself, I could get _him_ to do," I offered snidely, sneering at Simmons.

Jazz leaned down and nodded his head. "'Sup?"

Simmons sized up Jazz for a second, then started to strip his suit jacket and pants. "This is the beginning of the end of your life, little girl. After this, I will make sure you rot in jail with your dad. You're a criminal now. Let's face the facts. It's in your gene pool."

"Those are nice," Mikaela commented, pointing to Simmons' underwear, a pair of Hawaiian-print boxers with "aloha" written in cursive. "Now get behind the pole."

"This is such a felony what you are doing, young lady," the driver warned Mikaela as she pulled the two behind the pole and cuffed them both.

"I will hunt you down!" Simmons declared as we walked away.

"He'll hunt you down!"

"With no remorse!" Simmons added.

"No remorse!" the driver echoed. I turned around to glare at him, Jazz standing behind me, then he shut his mouth.

I motioned to the bruise on his face. "You alright? Need some ice or something?"

He seemed a little confused, but shook his head. "Just a bruise."

"Well good, 'cause I don't have any ice," I hissed, turning away from him and standing in front of the rest of the suits with Sam and Mikaela. "What do we do with them now?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess leave them here and go with the Autobots."

Though I opened my mouth to speak, I stopped at a strange but familiar sound in the distance. "Do you hear a helicopter?"

"Optimus! Incoming!" Ratchet declared suddenly, making us all jump. I spun around to see what he was talking about, and I saw bright headlights coming toward us, maybe a half a mile out. I could also see bright spotlights hovering above the cars—the helicopters I heard?

Jazz dodge-rolled in front of us, holding his hand out as it changed into a gun that almost looked like a satellite on his hand. Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Optimus formed a semi-circle around us humans and Ironhide jumped in front of everyone and slammed his fist down on the ground. A blue shockwave spread out in front of Ironhide and blew out the tires on the cars immediately down the road, making them all skid to stops.

"Autobots! Roll out!" Optimus demanded. They all changed into their car forms, Jazz jumping into the air and landing in car form while Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Ratchet falling on their fours as they changed.

My heart started beating faster and I jogged over to where Jazz was. His door opened and I practically dove inside. I scrambled around until I was sitting proper in the driver's seat and he peeled out, tires squealing, before the door closed. "What about Sam and Mikaela? Bumblebee's leaving them!"

_"__Optimus has 'em don' worry,"_ he assured me. Though I wasn't feeling particularly assured when I saw Optimus _running_ in the opposite direction.

I slapped my palm against the steering wheel a few times. "What is he _doing_?"

Jazz turned sharply and I was almost thrown into the passenger seat. _"Optimus knows what he doin'! Put on yer seatbelt I gotta lose these guys!"_

Whimpering, I pulled my seatbelt on and sunk as far into my seat as I could. Helicopters followed us from the air, but we all split off from each other. I was most worried for Ratchet, as his form was the most inconspicuous, but I trusted he'd figure it out on his own. Black cars followed closely behind us, but I doubted they could keep up with these robots.

We eventually found ourselves on a busy street, threading around traffic. Every time I glanced at my mirrors, I spotted a black car following us, but I couldn't hear or see any helicopters. Maybe they hadn't brought that many.

"If you keep weaving through traffic we'll look suspicious!" I groaned.

_"__No backseat drivin'!"_ Jazz growled.

"_I'm _in_ the driver's seat_!" I hissed.

He sighed. _"I have t'get ahead of 'em first, little miss." _

Groaning, I pressed myself back into the seat and closed my eyes. My fingers dug into the plush seats and I braced against each turn. If I couldn't see it, I couldn't freak out. If I couldn't freak out, I couldn't distract Jazz.

We screeched to a halt and I was tossed forward into my seatbelt. It stiffened to keep me from falling too far, and then I was slammed back into my seat.

_"__Get down."_

I ducked down immediately, sliding as low into my seat as I could until I was staring up at the ceiling. Everything was quiet for a few seconds, and then I heard a few cars shoot past our hiding spot. I waited a few more minutes, not daring to move or make a sound. I barely dared to even _breathe_.

_"__A'ight. We lost 'em."_

Even if he said that, I stayed hunched down for a few extra seconds before sitting up straight in my seat. "You sure?"

After a moment of silence he said, _"Ye'h I'm sure."_

Finally I allowed myself to relax and leaned into my seat. "I'm gonna need a lot of therapy after this is all over," I muttered to myself, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand. I glanced at the dashboard and narrowed my eyes. "Did _you_ know about my dad?"

The car vibrated slightly. _"Eh? Naw! Wait, what about ya dad?"_

"He was one of them! Before he died! These, Sector Seven bozos!" I exclaimed. I was probably being a little unreasonable, but I couldn't hold myself in check.

_"__Hey calm down, little miss. I didn' know nothin'. I mean we knew they pr'y were already aware of us, but tha's it,"_ he assured me. _"They chased Bumblebee an' I when we first arrived, searchin' fer the Allspark. They. . . figured out how replicate its energy signature and drew out Starscream an' some other Decepticons. Actually makes sense. . . Decepticons hacked your government files. . . pr'y why they found yo' family."_

I took a breath and shook my head. "Wait you guys knew _they_ knew about you?"

_"__Ye'h but we hadn't seen 'em since that day."_

"Alright," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "So then what about this Allspark energy signature or whatever?"

His engine started and he pulled forward out of the alleyway he'd backed into. _"We'll go over tha' later. Gotta catch up with the others. Optimus stayed in his proto form to keep their attention and lead 'em away from us." _

That explained why he'd just been running away when everyone else transformed and rode out as cars. I didn't know how he expected to hide, but I'd just have to trust his judgement. Jazz seemed to, after all. But even though he was deflecting my question, I wasn't about to forget. If this Sector Seven was the reason why my parents were dead, then I wanted to know about it.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"There they are!" I pointed, strainging against my seatbelt. Ironhide and Ratchet passed by us on an adjacent street and Jazz turned sharply to fall in line with them. They were being followed by neither car nor helicopter, to my relief.

I glanced around for a familiar yellow Camaro, but saw none. "Where's Bumblebee?" I asked, turning in my seat to try to see behind us.

_"__I dunno, little miss. We on route to meet with Optimus, though. We'll find 'im."_

Something about that didn't sit right with me, but I was certain that Bumblebee could handle himself. We just needed to meet up and find somewhere to hide. Probably leave the state after we were all together.

Our little caravan turned down a wide road running across from a big irrigation ditch. I could hear helicopters very close by, however, all three of the cars screeched to a halt and I sat up, looking around. "What's going on?" I asked, just before noticing the helicopters and group of SUVs down at the bottom of the ditch.

My eyes widened and I leaned forward a bit more. "Is that _Bumblebee_? They have Bumblebee!"

Down in that ditch, the Autobot scout was laid out on the ground. The Helicopters circled him, dragging him by some sort of line that I couldn't see. People swarmed around him, spraying some sort of smoke all over him.

"What are they doing? We have to help him!"

The three vehicles pulled forward and turned onto a bridge suspended over the ditch a ways away from the scene. I turned in my seat, trying to watch the whole thing. Trying to see if Sam and Mikaela were down there, too. "Jazz!"

_"__Hang on, little miss. Gotta see what Optimus says,"_ he finally replied, pulling up to the middle of the bridge. The door opened and I climbed out.

Jazz transformed out of vehicle mode and put a hand up before Ratchet and Ironhide could do the same. "Hang back," he commanded before leaping over the side of the bridge. My breath caught and I ran over to the railing, peering down.

For a giant robot, Jazz was more lithe than I would have given him credit. He hung and twisted, maneuvering down into the structure of the bridge. "Optimus," he called.

I looked around, running along the side of the bridge, following the sound of movement in the underbelly. Part of me wanted to climb down after him, but I knew I would never survive that particular feat: I didn't have an athletic bone in my body.

"We just gonna stand here and do nothing?" I faintly heard Jazz demand.

"We can't free Bumblebee without harming the humans." I had to lean as far over the railing as I could to hear the conversation, and even then I only barely caught what they were saying. I understood Optimus' reasoning, but wasn't there _some_ way they could free him?

"It ain't right—"

"Let them leave," Optimus interrupted. Had he not sounded so pained by the decision, I might have been angry at him. As it was, it didn't sound like he made the choice lightly.

My mouth hung open slightly and I turned to look out over the ditch. The cars were beginning to leave and the helicopters had a subdued Bumblebee hitched up to them. A few humans left behind were throwing a tarp over him, and when it was in place the helicopters took off with their Autobot captive.

"It's too cruel," I muttered.

"If Optimus would just let me, I could free him easy!" Ironhide's voice made me jump and I glanced over my shoulder. He was in his proto form, looking out over the ditch as well.

Ratchet had also finally transformed, and he was the other side of the bridge. "We will get him back eventually. Trust in Optimus' decisions. Bumblee can take care of himself in the meantime," he assured us.

I joined him over at the other side of the bridge. Optimus was on the ground, looking at his fingers. "Where's Sam and Mikaela? Sam had the glasses!" I called to him.

He turned toward me and lifted his hand. "I have them now."

A giant hand gently picked me up and I gasped in surprise, wriggling slightly. "Hold still," Ironhide demanded gruffly before leaping over the side of the bridge. I didn't have to be told twice and I stiffened, afraid he'd drop me.

However, he just leaped down with the same sort of grace—maybe a little less gracefully—that Jazz had showed and then handed me over to my proper guardian, who let me sit on his forearm: he was much too small to hold me in his hand with any comfort like Ironhide had been.

"You cold little miss?" he asked me, likely prompted by a violent shiver.

"A little," I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself.

Jazz moved his arm so I was a little closer to his chest and I shifted until my back was to him. Whatever power source he had in his chest—hadn't he called it a Spark or something?—gave off enough heat to make me feel a little better.

Optimus walked over to me and extended his hand, holding the glasses out to me. "Can you watch these for me?" he asked.

I nodded and took the spectacles from him, holding them against my chest.

"What do we do now?" I asked with a sigh.

The Autobot leader turned and looked out to the distance. "We find somewhere secluded and find out what the glasses have to tell us."

*:･ﾟ✧

It took a while for the Autobots to feel safe enough to move about the city. We split up for a while and Jazz and I just drove around aimlessly, waiting for Optimus to call us all together once again. He'd offered to scout a place to regroup, all we had to do was lay low and stay out of sight.

I wondered if they'd even be able to pull that off, especially after the debacle at Sam's house earlier that night.

"Hey Jazz?"

_"__Ye'h?" _His voice always made the radio quiet down.

"Does it. . .like is it uncomfortable? Being in this shape, I mean."

He chuckled and pulled to a stop at a red light. _"Naw_. _These cars li'l different from our vehicle forms on Cybertron, but it ain't bad. Bit cramped maybe."_

"So it _is _uncomfortable."

_"__Naw! I mean, I guess so. But not like, unbearable. Like an itch or a sneeze."_

"You don't do any of those how do you know?" I chuckled.

_"__They all phrases human use, did I use 'em wrong?" _He actually sounded a little embarrassed, though I thought I heard a hint of a grin in his voice.

I shook my head. "No you did, I was just poking fun."

The light turned green and he pulled forward again. _"You hungry or something?"_

Food. I had been trying not to think about it since we started driving. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Yeah I am but the _man_ has my purse, which has all of my money in it. So I'm kind of SOL."

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, _"Still got yo' phone?"_

I fished around in my pockets, but there was nothing. "No. It looks like they took that, too. Why?" I groaned, shaking my head and leaning back in my seat. This night couldn't get any worse than it already was.

_"__Never mind. What bank you use?"_

My eyes narrowed and I hesitated to answer. "Why?"

_"__Gonna get you some money. Unless ya want me t'steal it?"_

"No, no. . . United Bank NA. It's the bank I work at."

_"__A'ight then,"_ he chuckled.

We drove around seemingly forever until Jazz found a building with an ATM sitting out front instead of inside the building. I sat in the seat for a moment, feeling a bit uneasy. "What am I supposed to do?"

_"__Jus' walk up like yer gonna use it. I'll have it pull up yer information."_

It seemed a little weird, but I did as I was told and climbed out of the Jazz-Solstice. I tried to look natural as I walked up to the ATM, feeling a little relieved that there was no one in the parking lot except for Jazz and a lonely car that probably belonged to the clerk inside.

The screen was freaking out by the time I reached the machine. First I thought it was broken, but after a few minutes of pages flashing by faster than I could follow, it settled on a page with my name and account information. It was a little disturbing that he could just hack into that information so quickly and readily, but at least it was just my account.

At least I wasn't going to be_ stealing_ money.

Ignoring my balance—I was slightly afraid of how much money this road trip had cost me, though I hadn't had to pay for gas or anything—I went straight to withdrawing cash and pulled out about fifty dollars. If I needed more, I figured Jazz could just do this again.

_"__What you feel like eatin'?" _Jazz asked once I was back in the car.

Ideally I wanted to sit down and have a real meal at a sit-down restaurant, but I knew that at any moment Optimus could call us all together. I knew Jazz would say something like "he can wait", but that didn't seem right to me. In any case, I would just be sitting by myself and that seemed way too sad.

So it was just going to be fast food again.

"Something quick I guess. KFC, maybe. . . tired of hamburgers and fries," I mused aloud, settling into the seat and buckling up. Jazz pulled out of the bank parking lot and out onto the main street. Despite being so late, there was still a bunch of cars out on the roard.

_"__A'ight, then after that you gon' get some sleep. Had a rough last few hours." _

*:･ﾟ✧

Eventually Optimus called us all together again. He had found a Super Wal-Mart out on the freeway and it had the huge parking spaces in the back for truckers to pull into and sleep. Most Wal-Marts allowed you to stay up to 24 hours in the parking lot, so we all pulled into the far back spaces in a quiet part of the huge lot. The Autobots were a little spread out from each other, but Optimus sat between everyone.

Soon as we were settled, Jazz once again recommended I get some sleep.

Sleep didn't come easy, though. Not when I knew the government had all of my information and two probably terrified teenagers. I was still having a hard time swallowing the fact that this group of pigs knew about my family.

What else hadn't my parents not told me? I wasn't even sure Mom was a real banker or if that was just the cover job she used to hide the fact that she was with some secret government agent hiding aliens from the world. Where were they really driving when they were hit by our neighbors?

But that didn't make any sense, either. My dad didn't have a cover job, he had always told us straight up he worked for the government.

Some of these things I probably would never know now that they were dead, and I felt a little bad for being mad at my dad, anyway. It wasn't like he was James Bond or something, he just happened to associate with some very obnoxious people.

I just needed to sleep on all of this information. That would make it all better.

_"__What up little miss?"_ Jazz asked suddenly, making me start. He had shifted the seats around to make a bed for me again, but his Solstice form was only a two-seater, so there was barely any space for me unless I curled up a little bit.

"Nothing really, I guess." I closed my eyes and turned my neck until it popped in several places. "Just got a lot on my mind, is all."

Jazz sighed. _"Ya can't get comfortable, can ya?"_

Though I didn't really want to complain, I also _really_ wanted to sleep. I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest, tuning my head so I could look at the dashboard. "It's a little more cramped in here than before."

_"__Hang on."_

He fell silent after that and I looked around warily, wondering what he was going to shift into next, but he didn't do any of that. My brow knit together as I waited, a yawn seizing my whole body for a few moments.

_"__Optimus got room for ya to lie down and a built-in cot," _he suggested at last.

It was a kind gesture, but I didn't quite feel comfortable with it. I wasn't even sure why. I figured he wasn't lying about the cot, though: those truckers had to sleep somewhere on the road. I wasn't sure how it was supposed to work, though. Would it even be comfortable?

Maybe I was uneasy because I barely knew Optimus, though that shouldn't have been it. I shifted uncomfortably and stared at my toes. "Will he really be okay with that?"

_"__Ye'h! I already checked."_

Well now I had no real excuse, and I _was_ sleepy. Maybe it would be a good chance to get to know the Autobot leader a little better.

However, I still found myself hesitating just a little bit. I wasn't unwilling to leave Jazz, I just. . . knew him better than the other Autobots. He was my security blanket right then. My mouth opened and closed while I tried to come up with some excuse, but it seemed Jazz knew me a little better than I thought he did.

He chuckled warmly. _"You ain't gotta be afraid. . . Optimus don't bite. I'll park closer to 'im so I'm not far, k?"_

I felt my cheeks flush and I hugged my knees a little tighter. "I'm not _scared_!"

_"__Didn't say ya were!"_

My cheeks flooded with more heat and I sat up straight, facing the front, and crossed my arms over my chest. I was _not _scared. "Alright fine take me to him," I grumbled.

Jazz chuckled but didn't say anything else. His engine purred to life—I was a little certain he didn't even _need_ to turn on the engine, probably just liked the way it sounded—and he pulled out of the parking spot. It took all of seven seconds for him to pull up to where Optimus was parked, and then my door opened.

_"__G'night Kat. Optimus a real nice guy, k?"_

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Wasn't ever going to live this one down. "I know I just . . .just seems so weird. . .hope no one's watching," I muttered, swinging my legs around and hopping out of the small sport's car.

_"__I don't think so," _Jazz snickered.

"Good night, Jazz," I muttered, patting his hood. I still couldn't help but glance around for any lookie-loos who might think I was climbing into some strange semi-truck for the _wrong reasons_, but this part of the Wal-Mart parking lot was deserted.

Optimus' door opened when I was close enough and I felt myself blush again. If anyone was looking, they definitely had the wrong idea _now_.

Sighing, I climbed up the giant truck and was surprised with how much room it actually had. I could stand up in the cab without even being hunched over. The seats looked much nicer to sit in than any car I'd ever been in, and it had all kinds of compartments to stow items away in. They really wanted it to be a home away from home.

_"__Good evening, Kathryn."_

I almost jumped back out of the cab when he spoke, but managed to hold myself still. My cheeks burned and I moved further into the cab so he could close the door. "Evening. . .Optimus," I murmured, unsure if I could call him that or should address him as "Mr. Prime".

_"__I'm afraid you may not find the. . .bed comfortable. When I transformed into this vehicle I came with only the bare essentials, so it may not have a lot of padding," _he said, sounding about as unsure of himself as I felt. _"If you need to, you might go into that store and buy something to sleep on."_

"I'm sure it's fine," I sighed, not feeling particularly inclined to buy something I was only going to use once. At least, I _hoped_ I wouldn't be stuck living with the Autobots on the road for more than a day. I already missed my bed and it had only been two days.

He remained silent and I maneuvered through the cab until I was in front of the little compartment in the back. It looked like there was even a spot to hang clothes built into the wall. It was a lot roomier than I would have ever credited it, and there was a little slab attached to the wall for lying on.

It was just that, though. A slab of wood.

A curtain rod was mounted just over the opening, but there was no curtain. Apparently you had to furnish these things on your own time.

Still, better than sleeping all curled up. If I'd been used to that already it wouldn't have been so bad, but my bed was even larger than this slab and I'd gotten used to sleeping all stretched out.

I ran my hands over the block, but was surprised to find it smooth like vinyl. I pushed on it and it gave just a little bit. "Ah—see there's some cushion here. . . still probably need to buy a mattress to make it livable but for one night it'll be fine," I said, feeling a little better. I said it, but the padding didn't give a whole lot under pressure.

So this was still going to be a long night.

_"__Ah. Excellent, then."_

The slightly awkward silence fell over the cabin again and I sat on the cot-slab-bed and bounced a bit. "Are you okay with this? I mean—not doing anything. Do you guys. . . sleep?" I asked after a few moments.

_"__Not in the sense you humans do, but occasionally we need a hard reset."_

"Hard reset," I echoed, smiling. "Gotcha."

Optimus dimmed the cabin lights and I felt the air start to warm up a bit. _"Get some sleep, Kathryn."_

Right. The whole reason I came over here. I nodded and kicked my shoes off, placed them neatly nearby, and then stretched out on the bed. It was going to be about as comfortable as sleeping on a waiting room bench, but at least I didn't have to curl into a ball.

"We're going to get them back, right?" I asked.

_"__Of course."_

I nodded and put my head down, then rolled over to face the wall. Now that I was able to get semi-comfortable, exhaustion finally took over and I fell into an uneasy sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello readers!**

**I'm so sorry about the wait, I couldn't get in the right mindset to really hunker down and write this, but I hope I didn't make you guys wait too long. I didn't want to rush the chapter, and I still kind of feel like I didn't spend enough time on it, but I hope you all enjoy. I really hope to get the next chapter out a lot faster than I have been. I just hope this one isn't too boring. . . but the action will pick up I promise!**

**Just know that after this next chapter, it'll all be revisions and the chapters will come out pretty quickly afterwards, so look forward to that!**

**Also, thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review and let me know what you think! It keeps me going, it really does. :) I hope to continue to hear from all of you!**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Fourteen<p>

Falling.

I was falling.

My body jerked and I picked my head up off the vinyl surface it was resting on. Rather, peeled it off. I looked around through half-opened eyes and pushed myself up just a little bit. Nothing I was seeing looked familiar and I tried to recall where I was. I tried to shed the fog of sleep and figure out why I was in a truck cab.

Truck cab.

The truck drove over a pot hole or a bump in the road and my body jerked with it, making me realize it wasn't falling I had felt earlier. I propped myself up on my arms and crawled backwards into the corner. "Jazz? Jazz!"

_"__Easy, easy,_" a familiar voice said through the radio, making my head snap in that direction. _"You're safe, Kathryn. What's wrong?"_

For a moment I stared at the dashboard, then I sat up straight with my legs curled under me. I blinked more sleep from my eyes and rubbed at them with a closed fist. Optimus. Optimus had let me sleep in his cab last night. I yawned and wiped some drool from the corner of my mouth. "I'm okay. Just woke up a bit confused."

_"__One of your. . .human dreams?"_

"Hmm?" I gave that a bit of thought. Faint memories of metal hands, a cube wearing old glasses, and a barking robot dog disappeared into a mist and I shook my head. "No. Maybe. I'm alright now."

I swung my legs over the side of the cot and slipped my shoes back on. Another yawn held me in place for a moment while I stretched, making my vertebrae pop in a couple places. Then I got up and moved toward the front so I could take my place in one of the seats. "Where we are even—ahh!"

There was a person sitting in the driver's seat. I stumbled back in surprise and tripped over the passenger seat, landing in a huddled heap, back against the door and legs bunched up.

"Who the hell!"

The person flickered like a TV with bad signal and I stared at him, bewildered. He didn't look at me, just kept staring at the road with his hands on the wheel. He was completely average-looking: salt and pepper hair, sunglasses, a gray snap back ball cap, and some hideous plaid flannel shirt.

_"__Ah, apologies. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just a hologram."_

Said hologram flickered again, and I straightened myself in the chair, head tilted. "A hologram?"

_"__My windows are not as dark as the other Autobots. I created this hologram so it did not look like a truck was driving itself. Was I too cautious?_" Optimus asked. I noticed there was no music at all, not even quietly like when I was riding with Jazz.

I leaned forward and reached out with my hand to run it through the man's arm. It shimmered and I felt a strange current, but sure enough it was a hologram and not a real man.

"Who is this?" I asked, unable to look away from the strange vision.

_"__A man I had passed a few hours ago. He was driving his own truck."_

It was just weird. The more I stared at it the more uncanny it was and I had to look away. "Like the cop car. . .Barricade."

_"__He used a hologram?"_

"Yeah," I said. "Some guy with a mustache."

_"__It is a valid strategy to keep from being noticed."_

His speech was so formal I felt a little uneasy talking to him, like I was in an interview or a conference meeting. I fidgeted in the passenger seat and tried to get a feel for where we were. As far as I could tell we were on a freeway, but I didn't know what direction we were going and all I saw was open range—no landmarks to navigate by.

And I didn't see the other Autobots, either.

"Where are we?" I asked, leaning to see into the side view mirror. All I saw was my own harried reflection. "Where are the others?"

_"__They are behind us. We had to move early this morning when your government came looking for us. Once we reach the next town we will stop and try to figure out where the All Spark is. Do you have the glasses?"_

I leaned back in the seat and rubbed my forehead. "They're in Jazz' glove box. Why didn't you wake me?"

_"__Ratchet informed me that you were stressed and would need your sleep."_

How Ratchet could tell I wasn't sure, but I assumed it probably had to do with the fact that he was a medic robot, but Jazz had been able to tell when I stressed, too. Maybe they had a scanner that could read these things, maybe they could just tell from a change in heart rate. Either way, he was right: I felt remarkably better.

However, I still wished I was riding with Jazz. Optimus was nice, but it was like trying to have a conversation with a stuffy businessman.

_"__Are you hungry?"_

"No," I replied. "Not right now. I can wait until we get into town."

_"__It will only be thirty minutes"_

I nodded absently and looked out the window at all the nothing. Every now and again the monotony was broken up with an oil pumpjack or some cows, but it was a boring drive and Optimus seemed perfectly fine with sitting in silence.

_"__There is a child here that is making a strange gesture,"_ Optimus announced after about fifteen minutes had passed.

"Hmm?" I got up and looked around for this kid. "Where?"

_"__In front of us."_

At first I didn't see him, but finally I spotted some movement in a car in front of us. It was a little boy, maybe eight or nine. He was pumping his fist in the rear windshield. I smiled and sat back in my seat. "He wants you to honk your horn."

_"__Why?"_

I shrugged. "I don't know. Trucks have a cooler horn than most cars, I guess."

Optimus was silent one second, then his horn was blaring the next. It startled me and the child in the car, but after it passed the kid was bouncing around in excitement.

"Aw look at that, you made his day."

_"__I am glad I could bring him joy."_

Smiling, I shook my head. He sounded genuine, but he just sounded so different from Jazz, like Optimus was born in a different time. I guessed maybe he was.

*:･ﾟ✧

The place they chose to gather was a large observatory, abandoned during the day due to lack of stars out in the sky. It was out passed the city limits—I didn't even know what city it _was,_ but I figured it didn't matter—away from the pollution of lights and smog, so it was secluded.

When we stopped to get me food, I thanked Optimus for the ride and took up residence in Jazz once more. He seemed happy to see me, and I was certainly happy to have a regular conversation.

They transformed into their robot forms after a quick scan to make sure there wasn't anyone lurking around. We were behind the observatory, away from the main road and any possible prying eyes that could spot the giant robots. When Optimus held out his hand, I set the glasses down in his palm.

"Thank you, Kathryn," he said with a nod.

I nodded and stepped back as he lifted them to his own eye level. "Please. . .let this work," he muttered.

Jazz was seated atop the observatory and I glanced up at him as he spoke. "Fire it up."

Optimus turned and lifted the glasses out at arm's length. He focused on the lenses and scanned them with a light from his optic receptors. When they hit the glasses, a huge hologram of Earth projected from the glass. "The code," he said. "The code indicates that the All Spark is 230 miles from our current location."

230 miles. I rubbed my face with my hand and sighed. If I ever had to take another road trip after this was all done, it would be too soon.

He dropped his hand and the hologram disappeared with a flicker.

"The Decepticons will be preparing to mobilize. I can feel it in my circuits," Ratchet pointed out, turning to Ironhide who stepped up next to him.

Ironhide nodded. "It's only a matter of time before they figure out where it is, too."

"What 'bout Bumblebee?" Jazz demanded. "We can' just leave him t'die and become some sorta human experiment."

I turned to Optimus. "He's right, Optimus. They'll torture him and take him apart. If it's not a human, it doesn't have rights in our world. At least Sam and Mikaela will just be held in a cell for a while and questioned."

"If we don't move now and get to the All Spark before the Decepticons, this whole planet will die and Bumblebee's sacrifice to save the children will have been in vain." Optimus shook his head and lowered himself so I could take the glasses back from him. I carefully tucked them into my pocket. "He is a brave soldier, this is what he would want."

"But why are we fighting to save the humans?" Ironhide argued. "They're a primitive and violent race!"

Jazz gave him a sour look and Ironhide looked away. "Present company excluded."

"It's alright," I said, lifting my hand. "I'm well aware of our shortcomings as a species."

Optimus turned to face us again. "We were not so different, Ironhide. They are a young species and have much to learn. But we have seen goodness in them, have we not?"

Everyone nodded—well, Ironhide still didn't look convinced—and I felt like this was a conversation I wasn't really supposed to be hearing—like I was a third wheel eavesdropping. I didn't know what kind of goodness they've seen just between Mikaela, Sam, and I.

After all, they'd witnessed our own government attack their comrade and kidnap some the three of us.

Though I suppose since they had badges it wasn't really "kidnapping."

Still felt like it.

"Freedom," Optimus said, "is the right of all sentient beings. You all know there's only one way to end this war: we must destroy the Cube."

That statement hung in the air for a moment like a ticking bomb.

"If all else fails, I will unite it with the Spark in my chest."

"That's suicide!" Ratchet said, outraged. "The Cube is raw power. Doing that could destroy you both!"

I lifted my hand and stepped forward. "Woah woah that sounds like a stupid idea. Just jettison the thing back out into space or something and make them go chase it down somewhere else," I suggested. "That worked last time, right?"

"No," Optimus sighed, turning toward me. "That won't stop the war, just move it somewhere else. I predict Megatron would just bring it back, as well. Your technology is perfect for transforming into our kind. He wants to build a new army."

"Oh." I leaned back against the wall Jazz was standing on and ducked my head. "I remember you saying that now."

"Optimus you still can' be serious," Jazz said, making me look up at him. He was so much shorter than the other Autobots, I kind of understood why he was standing up on the building where he could be eye-level with the others.

My poor, tiny guardian.

"It's a necessary sacrifice," Optimus said, turning his head away from the others. "to make sure that the human's don't pay for our mistakes."

I shook my head and furrowed my brow. "I'm sure there's a better way."

It seemed to fall on deaf ears. Optimus glanced down at me momentarily, then turned back to his Autobots. "It's been an honor serving with you all."

"Woah," I said, lifting my hands. I looked around for some sort of support from the others, but they all looked resigned. "You're acting like you're already marching to your death or something!"

Ratchet leaned down toward me. "We very well could be, Kathryn."

"This is war," Ironhide added.

Optimus nodded and turned away again, squaring his shoulders. "Autobots, roll out." He punctuated the command by taking off toward the road and transforming.

Jazz jumped down from the wall and I watched the other two Autobots follow their leader, feeling slightly helpless. They were all ready to just charge out into a fight their leader seemed so determined to kill himself in. Maybe this mindset was why I never signed up for the military. . .I just couldn't imagine it.

"Don' worry little miss," Jazz said, startling me.

I turned toward him and shook my head. "You can't be okay with this, with Optimus' plan, right? There has to be another way."

He shrugged and picked me up gingerly before jogging to catch up with the others.

"He's our leader. We trust his judgment."

"Unconditionally?" I marveled.

"Sometimes," he chuckled. He tucked me in toward his chest with both arms and his form shifted around me. Metal clanked in my ears and spun close to my head, but I was ultimately tossed into the driver's seat without harm.

My breath left in a shudder and I glared at the windshield. "I hate it when you do that."

All he did was snicker in response.

*:･ﾟ✧

"Can you tell where we're going?" I asked, fidgeting with the station dials. No matter where I turned it, I couldn't get a proper signal to listen to anything.

We were driving right behind Optimus, the other two Autobots following close behind. I had suggested letting Rachet drive out front since he had sirens we could use to clear the path, but they hadn't seemed interested in that. Ironhide and Jazz had thought it was a good idea, but only Optimus really knew exactly where we were going.

Jazz was silent at first, but soon he replied. _"I'm not sure. . .something's messin' with your relays. . .I think it's some sort of dam, big tourist attraction. Doesn't make any sense though, we can't sense it, so it's gotta be hidden."_

He had to mean the Hoover Dam.

I leaned toward him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean you can sense it? And something's messing with your signal? Is that why I can't find a radio station?"

_"__Most likely,"_ Jazz said. _"The Decepticons pr'y jammed it all. Don't want y'all t'rally yer forces and such. As for the All Spark, its power calls t'us. y'know? We can sense it when we're near. . .tha's why we ran into Sector Seven when we first arrived. They c'n replicate its energy signature. Drew us out."_

"Yeah, gotta watch out for us humans," I murmured, leaning back into my seat.

_ "__Y'all're crafty."_

Desert surrounded us the closer to our destination we drove. It was surprising how dry it was when the Hoover Dam was just a couple hours away. Vegetation was starting to become more plentiful as we moved closer to the Colorado River, but it was mostly barren hills and tumbleweeds.

"No radio, no scenery. . .we're not even close to see Las Vegas from a distance. . .gonna be a long drive," I groaned, tilting my head back.

_"__Be glad fer the downtime. Gonna get rough today."_

"How rough?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the dashboard.

Jazz remained silent for a couple of seconds, then sighed. _"The Decepticons won' practice restraint. They destroy anything and anyone tha' tries t'stop 'em. I actually have half a mind t'take ya and drive far away once Optimus got the cube."_

I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms over my chest. "You can't do that."

Even though I objected, that wasn't really how I felt. The thought of being a bystander or—heaven forbid—a participant in an alien war didn't particularly appeal to me. In fact, it scared me to death. But I couldn't be that selfish. Not when this concerned my whole planet.

_"__An' why not?"_

"There are already so few of you here. You can't just abandon your team like that."

_"__Ye'h bu' I can't leave you alone in some town, either. I got a job to do—I gotta protect you,"_ Jazz argued.

My selfish side begged me to agree, to tell him to drive the other way and keep me safe. That I wanted to be about as close to the fighting as he wanted me to be. However, the selfless side told me that it was stupid. That I couldn't be like that. Jazz needed to be there for his comrades. I was just one human on a whole planet that was in danger.

So I leaned back and closed my eyes. I would regret it, but I couldn't just think about myself like a scared child. "You'll just have to protect me while kicking some Decepticon ass. I'll keep my head low."

_"__Promise?"_ Jazz said after a moment.

I smiled and nodded. "Promise."


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello readers!**

**Sorry for the wait! I had to struggle just to make sure I posted Phantasm up on time, and I was getting married, so it's been a busy couple of weeks. This is the last chapter I have to write from scratch for a while, so updates SHOULD be faster, though I make no promises. Also sorry this is kinda short, I wanted to get caught up quickly and there wasn't a whole lot going on anyway. **

**Enjoy! I read through this only once, so I hope I caught all of the typos and mistakes.**

**~ Crayola**

* * *

><p>Chapter Fifteen<p>

Time dragged on a we drove through the largest expanse of jack shit I'd ever seen. The last time I was on a road trip was when I was eleven and I didn't quite remember it being so boring, but maybe that was because I'd had something to entertain myself with.

Now we didn't even have the radio, all thanks to the bad guys.

Jazz did his best to keep me somewhat amused. We talked about his home planet for a time and it certainly sounded fantastical. He painted pictures of large metal buildings, molten energy rivers, and spanning cities where they had all lived before the planet started to die off due to war and its missing energy source—the All Spark.

He spoke of it with such awe and reverence that I hoped that one day he would be able to return to his home.

After a while though, conversation petered out and we were left with the Alphabet game again. When I brought it up, I thought that it would just be me and Jazz playing, but he opened up a link between the Autobots present and included everyone.

Ironhide was by far the most competitive, even when we started out playing as a big team. About ten letters in it turned into Jazz and I against everyone else and we had to start over. Ratchet and Optimus didn't join in at first, but they ended up being swept up in the competition and starting participating.

With more people—though I use the term loosely—playing the road trip games, we shifted into I Spy.

That one was interesting. Ironhide wound up ignoring the color clues and just spouted off anything he could see as fast as he could in order to win, though he barely got anything right. Ratchet was the one who showed the most aptitude with the game. Optimus might have been playing along, but he barely spoke up, probably to keep from being distracted with the goal.

But he never tried to put a stop to our games, even when Ironhide and Jazz started to threaten each other over what a vanity license plate was trying to say. I hoped it was because we needed the boost to our morale.

_"What does 'swag' even mean? You made it up!" _Ironhide snarled.

My guardian snorted and vibrated with irritation. _"I did not! T'thing _clearly_ says 'swag life' ya moron."_

_ "Why don't you transform and we'll settle this like real 'bots, pipsqueak!"_

_ "Pipsqueak?"_ Jazz roared.

"Jazz calm down it's just a game!" I cooed, patting the dashboard. The angrier Jazz was the more the car shook. The last thing I needed was for these two to get into it on a highway, even if the only car we'd seen was Mr. Swglfe a few miles back. I wasn't sure if they really would, but I didn't want to risk it, either. "Ironhide he's right so just move on."

_"Save it for the Decepticons, you two,"_ Ratchet sighed.

The two Autobots grumbled over the line for a moment. No one was apologizing, though, and I felt like I needed to be the mediator.

"Maybe we should stop playing these games," I suggested, "until you two can cool off."

_"Who's not cool? I cool," _Jazz said.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Ironhide had to get in the last word. _"And small."_

_"Tha's it!"_

Jazz lurched, his breaks locked, and then he spun around on the road to face the incoming Ironhide. I gripped my seat and braced against the back, eyes wide. Before I could open my mouth to say anything, to scream, _something_, Jazz's form shifted around me and I was spit out on the road, flat on my ass.

With a giant pick-up truck roaring toward me.

Jazz hunched over and hooked his hands under Ironhide's grill and tossed him—seemingly without effort—over his shoulders. Ironhide didn't even have time to transform before he landed on his roof, wheels spinning in the air.

"Now shut up!" Jazz admonished, jabbing a finger in his direction.

I was too stunned to move, but I let out a surprised squeak when Jazz picked me up and transformed around me, tossing me back into my seat and driving after the others like nothing had happened. A tremor chased up my spine and I turned slightly to see Ironhide revert to his proto form just long enough to flip right-side over and drive after us.

_"You try that again without the suckerpunch and see how well it works_," Ironhide challenged over the radio.

_"Are you two quite finished?"_ Optimus demanded. I could hear his horn blare.

_"Sorry Optimus. I had t'take out the trash," _Jazz sneered.

Ironhide growled and I tried to steady my beating heart long enough to figure out how I was going to yell at Jazz. _"If you weren't carrying a little meat-bag I'd gun you down with my canons you little pest!"_

_ "You take tha' back! She ain't just a meat-bag!"_

_ "Jazz, Ironhide, cool it!_" Optimus commanded. It wasn't one of his normal commands—his voice was deeper, more menacing. It certainly shut them up.

The radio clicked, making silence fall over the car for a little while. After a moment where I just sat and glowered, Jazz' sheepish voice came through. _"Sorry 'bout tha' little miss. I shouldn'a lost my temper like that_. _Are ya hurt?_"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then grunted. "No but I swear to god if you ever dump me out like that again I'll—I'll—"

_"Okay okay I got it, sorry."_

He _sounded_ apologetic enough but I wasn't sure if I could actually believe he wouldn't do it again. I glared at the dashboard for a moment longer then sighed and leaned back to stare out of the windshield. "Yeah okay, apology accepted."

We were behind Optimus now and Ratchet was between Jazz and Ironhide. All of the games had stopped to let the pair of them chill out. Not even ten minutes later, though, we caught sight of other cars on the road heading the opposite way. A caravan of heavy-grade army trucks by the look of it.

And a glint of yellow paint.

"Is that. . . ?" I leaned forward and squinted against the sunlight glaring off of Jazz' silver surface. It certainly _looked_ like him.

_"Ye'h! Tha's Bumblebee!"_

My smile broke into a wide grin and I let my breath out in a relieved huff. "He's alright! Does he have Sam and Mikaela? Why is he being escorted by the military?"

Our caravan passed them and Optimus slammed on his breaks. Jazz was forced to the do the same and his wheel cranked hard to the side. I was thrown against the door as he U-turned too sharp, and we fell in line right behind the convoy. I was surprised no one freaked out, but if they had Bumblebee out and free, we were probably working together now.

_"Bee's got t'All Spark. We heading for a rendezvous to get the cube somewhere safe," _Jazz explained. Everyone was driving right down the center of the road, forcing other cars off of it as we zipped along. "Gonna meet somewhere called Mission City."

"Where's that?"

_"'Bout an hour from Vegas. But we be there in half hour."_

I couldn't help the groan that resonated in my chest. "Oh my god I'm so done with being cramped up in a car."

_"Sorry, little miss. This'll all be over soon."_

The ominous way he said that made me pause. I furrowed my brow and wrapped my arms around myself. "What do you mean?"

_"Megatron's awake. Decepticons'll catch up to us soon enough."_

All the color drained from my face and I leaned back in my seat. I don't know why, but for a brief moment I had this glimmer of hope that we wouldn't have to fight at all, that we'd pass the Cube off and then that would be that.

What a dumb hope.

*:･ﾟ✧

"How much further?"

I was growing more and more anxious the closer we were to this Mission City. It didn't sound like a real place but Jazz assured me that it was. Today I learned.

The apprehension was killing me. I wished I had my phone, but with the Decepticons jamming signals or whatever, that wouldn't have done me any good either. I tried to coax Jazz into conversation, but he was in the zone and only responded with monosyllabic words at best and uncivilized grunts at worst.

It was the reason I heard the crashes behind us.

"What was that?" I whispered. I didn't know why I was whispering.

Jazz didn't immediately respond and I turned around in my seat to look for the source. Maybe someone had just run into another person. That happened often on all major freeways, and we had definitely turned onto the interstate a few miles back—cars were everywhere and it was almost the lunch rush hour.

So it was probably nothing to worry about.

A car several lengths behind us was thrown into the air by some huge military minesweeper vehicle. The car crashed to the ground with a shattering sound and another rammed into before it had time to stop. The giant truck continued its rampage, running cars off the road, shoving them out of its way, and using its articulated ordiance-clearing arm to flip cars over its body.

This thing was probably _not _on our team. It was probably _something_ to worry about.

"Jazz," I whimpered. "Who is that?"

_"Bonecrusher. Hate incarnate. We faster," _he assured me.

Of course. Bonecrusher. Why wouldn't the Deception flipping cars into the air like he just didn't care be named Bonecrusher? Forget the fact that Cybertronians probably didn't have _bones_ to crush, so to say.

Had to have picked that name _just_ to scare humans.

Asshole.

Flashing lights drew my attention away from the military car and onto a familiar police cruiser. I felt the color drain from my face.

"Jazz!" I slid deeper into my seat so Barricade wouldn't see me. Like that would help.

_"Stay calm, little miss."_

Optimus fell back behind everyone and Ironhide joined Ratchet's side, the three of them forming a sort of blockade as the rest of us sped onward. I was turned all the way around in my chair, seatbelt tossed aside, and I craned my neck to see around the cars speeding away from the crash sites. That giant brown vehicle was still visible over the tops of all the cars and trucks.

And it was transforming.

"Jazz, Jazz it's gonna transform," I muttered. "It's a freeway! It can't transform in the middle of all these people!"

_"Don' think he cares."_

I glowered at the dashboard and jabbed a finger in its direction. "_You_ should care!"

Breaks squealed behind us and I turned sharply at the noise just in time to see Optimus begin his own transformation. A groan of despair rumbled in my throat and I grabbed my head between both of my hands. "No no no no no they can't have a droid death match here."

_"Optimus'll do his best t'minimize human casualties, little miss. Ya gotta calm down and trust us," _he said, sounding abundantly patient despite my mini freak-outs.

The Autobot leader seemed to be at a bit of a disadvantage as Bonecrusher expertly maneuvered around the interstate like he was on rollerblades. I rubbed my face nervously and tried my best not to pull out all of my hair. "Okay, okay, sorry."

Jazz chuckled warmly. _"Now sit'own straight an' put on yer seatbelt."_

It took me a minute, but I eventually sat down in my seat properly and strapped myself back in. I kept my eyes on my rearview mirror though, watching as Bonecrusher tackled Optimus straight off of the overpass and onto the roads below, leaving behind a bus that had been broken in half.

"Is he gonna be okay by himself?" I asked.

_"Ye'h. Optimus didn't get chosen to lead just cuz'a his inspirational speeches."_

His words made sense but what I was seeing didn't really correlate with any of that. I forced myself to look away from the rearview mirror and stare straight ahead. My fingers dug into the lush pleather seats and I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves.

_"Ya gonna be okay?"_

I nodded my head in jerky twitches. "I'll be alright." _Lair_.

He hummed—well, really he just vibrated slightly—like he wasn't convinced. _"D'ya need me t'sing you a song?"_

"No," I scoffed.

Jazz chuckled and I felt like my seat started to warm up a little bit. _"I know you ain't seen action before but I promise I'll keep ya safe, m'kay? Ya don't gotta worry 'bout nothin' when yer with me,"_ he assured.

Somehow I managed to smile. My heart was still beating a mile a minute in my chest, but I knew all I had to do was trust in Jazz and the other Autobots. "I'll do my best."

_"You'll be fine."_

"Where's Barricade?" I asked, turning in my seat as far as I could. A glance down the road and in my mirrors wielded no results—no sirens, no flashing lights, just a few in the background as emergency vehicles responded to the crashes and mayhem.

For a moment Jazz said nothing. Then, as we followed the few military trucks up an off ramp, he replied. _"He took an exit few miles back. I dunno where he went."_

Instead of panicking like my mind wanted me too, I just took a deep breath. We'd just have to deal with that when it became a problem, _if_ it became a problem. Maybe he thought it would be best if he sat this one out, though I doubted that. I was a little worried that Optimus wouldn't be with us in Mission City, but I had to believe he would beat his opponent and join us as soon as he could.

I just hoped that not many bystanders were sacrificed here on the road. Or once the fighting really began in the city—though I severeley hoped that we could get the Cube out of the city _before_ the fighting began.

It was bad enough Sam, Mikaela, and I were civilians that had been pulled into this mess by our ancestors. I couldn't begin to know how hard it would be for someone to be minding their own business and then have a giant robot crash through your bus. It made my stomach clench just thinking about it.

So far we'd seen Bonecrusher and Barricade—where were the other Decepticons?


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Our caravan of motley cars pulled to a stop in front of a pawn shop about halfway into the city. A single military operative scrambled inside, though I couldn't imagine what they wanted from a pawn shop.

"Why are we stopping?" I asked, pushing myself up out of my seat to better see what was going on.

_"Dunno little miss."_

I sat back down and glanced around. "Well whatever it is it should be able to wait, we have shit to do."

Jazz chuckled in response, but before he could say anything else the soldier returned to their vehicle with an armful of walkie talkies. I made an O shape with my mouth and settled in. _"There ya go, champ,"_ Jazz teased.

It made sense that they needed to find a way to communicate with each other.

The line was moving through the streets again. The citizens of Mission City were watching us go by with curious stares, some even pointing, and I found myself pretending to drive just in case. I wondered if anyone else had a hologram driver up, like Optimus had.

As I thought about him, I hoped he was okay.

"Shouldn't we be like. . .evacuating the city or something?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road in front of us.

_"Pr'y, but wit' yer communications down, it'd be near impossible,"_ he responded.

Suddenly, a sonic boom reverberated overhead as a jet flew by. Everyone rolled to a stop and the team of army soldiers crawled out of their cars. Sam and Mikaela followed suit, standing nearby Bumblebee. I reached for the door to get out, too, but the door locked on me before I could. I pried at the lock, but it wouldn't budge. All around us green smoke started to waft into the air, though I wasn't sure where it had come from.

"Jazz? Jazz what are you doing?" I demanded, pulling on the door handle.

"It's Starscream!" Ironhide yelled from the front lines, answering my question instead. He and Bumblebee had transformed and were running toward a big hauler with colorful pictures on the trailer.

"Oh. . . ," I breathed, sitting back in my seat.

A jet. Starscream was a jet. The prospect of this meeting finally happening made my muscles quiver and I sat inside Jazz, trembling.

Starscream flew overhead again, eliciting a flinch from me, and Ironhide and Bumblebee continued to push the eighteen wheeler across the road, attempting to make some sort of barricade or shield to protect us from the jet.

The _jet_. That could fly over us and give zero fucks about a truck.

Instead, they just created a giant target for themselves. Starscream circled around again and fired a single missile from close-range. It hit the massive vehicle dead-on, and the truck erupted. Ironhide, Bumblebee, and several people were thrown aside, landing in an explosion of asphalt and dirt. I held tightly onto the center consoles as the earth shook.

The dust cleared and Ironhide was staggering to his feet, but Bumblebee was not. He was on the floor, crawling toward Sam and Mikaela.

"Jazz? Jazz what's wrong with Bumblebee?" I demanded, fumbling with the locking mechanism again. Jazz gave himself a mighty shake, like a dog, and shed himself of pieces of building that had landed on his hood. "You have to let me out so you can transform and help!"

When Bumblebee had crawled a certain distance, I could see clearly that his legs were appeared to no longer be attached to his body.

His legs.

Were _gone_.

"Jazz," I whimpered, pressing the button to release my seatbelt. When it didn't snap free, I pulled at the strap to create some slack, but it wouldn't give. "Bumblebee is hurt!"

_"Kat," _he cooed, rocking slightly.

Sam pushed on Jazz' hood when Bumblebee crawled close. He backed up, but still didn't let me free.

I pushed the button to make the convertible top go down, and it started to, but the buzz stopped, then started again and the top closed. When I tried to roll down my window so I could crawl out, it didn't obey and I became increasingly agitated.

"Jazz! You have to help them, Bumblebee is hurt."

_"Kat, please—"_

My breathing bordered the line of hyperventilating and I pushed my hands against my head. "Jazz what are we going to do, we can't fight a _jet_! A jet_, _a minesweeper, a police car—what are we going to do? What are we going to do?"

My door opened and my seatbelt released at last. I scrambled out of the Solstice and tried to make a break for it. I had to run, I had to hide, I had to get the _hell_ out of dodge and—

Jazz' hands wrapped protectively around me and I slammed into them, whimpering and panting. I scuttled around like a frightened mouse for a few seconds until Jazz leaned over me, casting a shadow. I turned and stared up at him with wild eyes, back pressed against his fingers, circling me like a small corral.

"Kathryn," he said, his tone sharp and commanding.

Air filled my lungs, puffed out my chest, and I held perfectly still. I clenched my mouth shut and swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth. He had never called me by my full name before and now had my undivided attention.

His face was a picture of seriousness and he moved his hands to gently set them on my shoulders. My heart fluttered painfully in my chest and I ducked my head, humbled by his size.

"I need you to listen to me, Kat," he said.

When I nodded, it was a jerky motion.

"My first priority is to protect _you_. Not Bumblebee, not Optimus, not anyone else. _You_. The other Autobots can protect themselves." I had gotten so used to his slang, and now he sounded like a completely different 'bot.

A boom startled me and I flinched against Jazz' hands, tuning my head to try to see what was going on.

"Kathryn, eyes on me."

I turned back to look at him, my lips thinning into a line.

"In order for me to protect you, I need you to do _exactly_ what I say, okay?" The nod I gave him didn't seem to be good enough. "You understand?"

"Yes," I muttered, my voice meek.

He made a single nod of approval. "If I tell you to run, you need to _run_. If I tell you to stay under me, stay under me. Do you trust me?"

Screaming from down the street made me glance away for him for a moment, long enough that I saw a _tank_ driving down the road, crushing cars and scattering groups of terrified citizens. Ironhide and Ratchet were in their truck forms, speeding to intercept the Decepticon.

Jazz shook me gently. "Kathryn!"

My eyes snapped back up to his face. Now there was a tank. A jet, a tank, a minesweeper, and a cop car—they were choosing _military vehicles_ and the Autobots had picked _sports cars_. What the hell? How were we supposed to beat _that_?

The panic started to rise in my chest. Sweat began to bead on my brow and I felt close to fainting—my vision blurred and sounds became dull.

Once again Jazz gave me a little jolt and I forced myself to meet his gaze.

"Kathryn, _do you trust me_?"

All I could do, paralyzed with fear, was stare at him. Then, finally, I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat and nodded. "With my life."

His shoulders sagged with relief and he pulled his hands away from me before he straightened up to his full height. He folded in on himself and landed with a thump back in his Solstice form, dirtied and dented, with the driver's seat open. _"Get in."_

This time I didn't hesitate. I crawled into the seat and braced myself as he took off down the road, weaving around cars stopped in the middle and debris that had fallen due to the various explosions caused by tanks, jets, and even Autobot fire. This particular stretch of road had finally been cleared of civilians.

_"I'mma need t'transform on t'fly. Y'gotta be ready t'tuck an' roll."_

Jazz seemed to be back to his old self, and it filled me with a sort of relief. Though I didn't like the idea of being dumped out again, I figured it was necessary. I was going to have bruises on my bruises, but I'd already told Jazz I trusted him with my life.

I was going to have to act like it.

He drifted around a corner and the tank loomed ahead of us, firing at Ironhide as the massive weapons specialist charged. I braced, and then Jazz shouted a warning. When he started to shift, I was ready. He at least had the presence of mind to slam on his breaks and slow to a crawl before spitting me out. The ground came up to meet me, but I landed on my shoulder and rolled with the momentum, tucking and rolling just like he said.

Still hurt—I landed wrong and jarred my shoulder, but the pain didn't register like it should have. I skid to a stop on my stomach and scrambled off the road, shoes slipping on the loose gravel scattered on the ground.

My guardian leaped atop the tank with the grace of a dancer and forced the tank into transforming. The Decepticon roared and reached for Jazz, but the smaller robot kept out of reach, kicking and pulling on the various weapons.

Finally, though, the tank Decepticon got in a lucky grope and grabbed Jazz by the arm, flinging him into a nearby building.

"Jazz!" I shouted, peeking out from behind my hiding place: newspaper dispensary.

He rolled back onto his feet and shook himself off. "Stay put, little miss!"

The likelihood of being injured went up if I moved. So long as the Autobots knew where I was, they could draw fire elsewhere. Nothing short of immediate threat of death was going to move me out from behind that newspaper machine.

That tank held strong even with the three other Autobots firing at him in unison. Shouts from around us caught my attention, and the military men from before joined the attack. Finally, the tank seemed overwhelmed. He started to back up and glance between his aggressors, and then a well-placed missile struck him and he fell back, collapsing to a heap.

"A'ight, good work," Jazz called, dancing back until he was parallel with where I was crouched down and taking cover. "Little miss?"

"Here," I answered, standing tall enough to wave at him.

Jazz moved closer and leaned down. "You a'ight?"

I nodded in twitchy motions and glanced around for more danger. Despite how I was shaking, I still managed to walk out from around my shield. "I'm okay."

Before he could respond, a behemoth of a robot fell straight from the sky, landing in an alleyway a block away from our position. I ducked down in instinct and the Autobots regrouped with each other, facing the new threat.

"It's Megatron!" I heard Jazz announce. "Retreat! Move! Fall back!"

The robot in question stormed out from between two buildings, looking around until he spotted our little group. He was the largest robot I had seen yet, and nothing like the rest of the Cybertronians. Usually I could recognize parts of them as various pieces of what they transformed into, but Megatron. . .he looked entirely alien.

Like he hadn't taken a human machine for disguise. He was all alien.

"Kat!" Jazz shouted. "Fall back to y'people!"

Though I told myself that I wouldn't, that Jazz deserved my undying obedience and trust, I found myself hesitating. Whether it was because I was afraid to leave his side or just paralyzed by fear—a deer in headlights—I didn't know.

"Kathryn!"

I was jolted back to my senses and I stumbled backwards, then turned tail and fled toward the soldiers crouched behind cover. Even they had started to fall back at the sight of Megatron's towering bulk stalking toward them.

"Duck!" one of them shouted.

The warning came too late. An explosion rocked behind me and I was thrown to the ground, bracing myself with my hands. A pang went all the way up my wrist to my shoulder and I collapsed, mouth open in a pained gasp.

Something crashed behind me and I turned, cradling my injured wrist to my chest.

"Jazz," I said, my voice nothing but a whisper.

He was on the ground, and Megatron was walking towards him. I didn't see any other Autobots in the immediate area.

"No! Jazz! Someone help!" I cried at the top of my lungs. While I tried to stand on shaky legs, I glanced around for aid. Everyone was preoccupied: the tank had gotten back on his feet, and another Decepticon, some sort of helicopter, had landed on a tall building nearby.

They had left Jazz to take care of himself.

"Jazz!" I screeched, staggering upright. I turned, looking for someone to help—anyone.

Pain made me wince, but I fought through it and started an unsteady gait toward Jazz. "You have to get _up_, Jazz!"

Whether he heard me or not, he pushed himself up and into a crouched position, one arm up and firing at Megatron. He was so small, his shots seemed to be nothing more than a minor inconvenience, like Jazz was firing a paintball gun instead of a real one.

My legs locked, keeping me pinned in place. By my side, my good hand curled into fists. Every fiber of my being was telling me to run and save my own skin.

But I couldn't—nay, _wouldn't_—leave Jazz.

Resolved crackled through my brain like a currently of electricity and I leaned forward, muscles twitching and ready to break into a sprint. For a minute I lived in slow motion. Jazz rolled backwards and twisted to his feet with a flourish of his legs. Megatron snarled and fired at him again, but the missile missed and hit the pavement, blowing chunks of sidewalk outward in a flurry of rocks and dirt.

Jazz leaped backwards and crouched over me, bringing me to a jarring halt. I closed my eyes against the sharp pinging sounds caused by debris hitting his metal frame.

He scooped me up into his arms and rolled forward, another shot from Megatron landing nearby and raining bits of road over us. I clung to the top of his grille-chest like my life depended on it, and then Jazz was on his feet and ducking around the corner of a building, sinking down to his haunches.

"What you doing, little miss?" he hissed, opening his arms so I could drop down and stand on the sidewalk.

I couldn't meet his gaze and instead stared at the Pontiac symbol on his chest. "I didn't know what to do. You were in trouble, and Megatron, he's so. . .so big and I just—I panicked and I wanted—I wanted to help but how—" I nervously wiped my hands on my shirt.

The small Autobot sighed and shook his head. "What I tell you? I say run, you gotta run."

Tears pricked my eyes and I tried to blink them away. "I got scared." Admitting it made me feel awful, like I was a child again instead of a grown woman.

It was getting easier to tell when he was smiling. He gently tapped the tips of his fingers against my back before raising his head to glance around. We were safe for the moment, hidden behind a huge building. The military was using suppressing fire to drive Megatron back, and I heard his thunderous snarls head further and further away.

"You don' gotta be scared, Kat. I won' let nothin' happen t'ya."

"But who's going to make sure nothing happens to you?" I shot back.

He shook his head again and I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. "I ain't let my size stop me before, it ain't gonna stop me now, little miss. Now fall back, I'll cover us." Jazz left little room for arguing: he stood up and stepped over me, raising a cannon higher.

I took a breath and ran ahead, making a break for the line of soldiers fighting against the tank. Sam was speaking heatedly to the one who was in charge, or at least appeared to be in charge. Bumblebee was hooked up to a tow truck and, besides the lack of legs, looked no worse for the wear. Mikaela was nearby, making sure Bumblebee was hooked up tight.

"Sam!" I shouted, waving my arm above my head to grab his attention. I still had my sprained wrist cradled against my chest. "Mikaela!"

Finally he looked, double-took, then turned his body toward me. "Kat! You're alright!"

Mikaela lifted her gaze to Sam first, then followed his stare out to me. I saw her smile from where I was and she waved at me too. Relief flooded through me and I found my second wind. I put on a sudden burst of speed to make it over to the line, to protection.

Bumblebee looked up, then pointed and made a sharp, alarmed sound.

Tires squealed to my right and I glanced sharply in that direction, skidding to a halt when I found a singular vehicle, terrifying and familiar, bearing down on me. I had barely enough time to scream before it veered away and slammed into Jazz, knocking him off his feet. The Mustang police cruiser shifted while Jazz rolled over his roof, locking him into a submission hold.

"Jazz!" I shouted.

My guardian grunted and twisted, trying to reverse the submission. Barricade snarled and grappled with the smaller 'bot, spewing words in a language I didn't understand.

"Kat! Kat come on!" I heard Sam yell behind me.

Run to safety, stay close to Jazz—

He would want me to run to safety.

I took a breath and turned to sprint to the military. Jazz could take care of himself, I had to believe in that. Me, I needed to get somewhere safe. I couldn't be evacuated like everyone else because I was a target, but at least I could be somewhat protected if I was with the soldiers.

Something hulking and massive landed in my line of sight, blocking off my safe haven. I stopped short and slipped on the loose gravel, almost falling on my ass.

The robot before me was taller than Optimus and bulkier too. The wings of a jet protruded from his shoulders like armor, and his legs recurved like a dog's. Silver covered him from head to toe like Megatron, with just a glimmer of color from the glass cockpit at his stomach. I stepped back, mouth agape, and stared.

"WALKER CHILD!"

Starscream reached his clawed hand toward me.

Jazz' voice cut through the fear. "Kat, _run_!"

No time to hesitate, no time to think. Just obey. My legs were moving as soon as the command was issued and I bolted down a side street. The Decepticon's hand grasped the air where I used to be and I ran as I fast as I could without looking back, even when Starscream's roar reverberated behind me.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"Stand still so I can kill you!" Starscream sneered, stomping closer and closer.

I didn't know how I was going to outrun a three story robot, but I was giving it my best despite the burn in my lungs and the stitch in my side.

In my path sat an abandoned car. I scrambled on top of its roof, slid down the back windshield, and then hopped off to the ground. Starscream howled and flipped the car away when he reached it. It sailed over my head, and I fell to the ground to avoid being hit.

Everything hurt, but adrenaline dulled the sharp edges, fueled me onward. I held my sprained wrist against my chest. I was trying to support my wrist and my heaving chest. Almost every breath and every step threatened to take me to my knees. My shoulder hurt where I'd landed on it early.

At that moment, I _was_ pain. Fear is a strong motivator, though.

_Jazz, someone, help!_ I pleaded, crawling toward another car and rolling underneath it. I knew I could only stall my death for so long, but it was all I had.

"You can't hide, pathetic cockroach!" Starscream declared. The car was suddenly no longer over my head. I looked up to see Starscream towering directly above me, looking down at me with narrowed optics. The car I'd been hiding under was next to him, wheels spinning uselessly in the air.

He leaned back and emitted a high pitched cackle, then snapped back to attention and reached a clawed hand toward me.

"DECEPTICONS ATTACK!" I didn't recognize the booming voice, but assumed it was Megatron. Starscream halted for just a moment, claws retreating and clacking together. I attempted to scramble to my feet while he was distracted.

Starscream shook himself and sneered. "Megatron can wait, you're mine now."

Unshed tears created a painful pressure behind my eyes and I crab-walked backwards, only to bump into a light post.

A flash of silver. I started when several shots slammed into Starscream's side. It caught him off-guard and he stumbled, lifting his arm to protect himself. It gave me a chance to haul my ass up and run. I was limping now, but I made it work.

"Keep runnin' Kat!" I heard Jazz shout behind him. I didn't think it a necessary command—I wasn't planning on stopping until Starscream was gone.

The jet Decepticon roared in anger, and then I heard the ear-shattering sonic boom of him taking off, driven off by Jazz' cover fire. Thinking I was safe, I came to a halt and turned, searching for Jazz. He was running toward me and I felt relief flare in my chest.

With all the explosions and shouting going on, I didn't hear the helicopter until it was too late. The thing swooped over my head. I ducked instinctively, but Jazz wasn't so lucky. This new Decepticon transformed mid-air and slammed into my guardian, pinning him under his mass. My eyes bugged and my legs jerked, trying to make me run to him.

"Jazz!"

I heard the shots before I saw them. They were followed by Ratchet and Ironhide, firing upon the helicopter Decepticon. It snarled and reared back enough for Jazz to get his arm free and fire a few bolts point-blank into his enemy's chest.

Growling, the helicopter stumbled back before transforming and flying off. I almost fell to the floor in my haste to get to Jazz, but Sam went flying past me.

"Sam?" I called, spinning to follow him.

He skidded to a stop and looked around, as if he thought a ghost was calling to him from the beyond. When he spotted me, his brows knit together. "Kat, what're you–?"

"Keep moving you two!" Ironhide commanded, lifting an empty car and using it as a shield when the helicopter fired at us. He spun and landed on the ground, but Jazz helped him to his feet.

Jazz turned to look at me. "Stay wit' Sam, Kat. We'll cover ya."

"Let's go!" Sam shouted.

I had been hoping I wouldn't have to run anymore, but it seemed that was hoping for too much. I groaned, but otherwise turned to follow Sam without complaint. My limp was gone, but none of the other pains were.

We didn't get much further before Starscream plunged down from above us. He hit the ground and slid toward us, lifting his clawed hands and shoving cars out of his way in a spray of sparks. I screamed before I could stop myself and without thinking, grabbed Sam's arm and tugged him down against the side of a truck.

"Give me the girl and I might let you all live!" Starscream taunted, shooting wildly at the three Autobots returning fire.

Sam and I remained crouched, my hands over my head and Sam lifting a small, bronze-colored cube over his for protection. Each shot made my whole skeleton vibrate, every step Starscream took shook the ground and threatened to knock me over.

"Decepticon creep!" Jazz shouted, dancing around the cannon fire that crippled both Ratchet and Ironhide. He launched himself at the Decepticon and Starscream grabbed him.

Transforming, he soared off with my guardian and I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

"No, no no no," I muttered, scrambling back up. I stumbled when my knee buckled, but managed to stay upright.

All I wanted was to run to him, but Ironhide slammed his fist down in front of me, making me jump back in surprise. Sam was at my side, looking about as scared as I felt. "Get to the building! Jazz will be fine!" Ironhide pleaded, sparks flying from his chest.

Sam nodded and quickly turned away, sprinting down the road.

Eyes wide, I spun and forced my body to chase after him. "Wait! Wait! I'm coming, too! Don't you leave me alone!"

"Hurry up!" he cried behind him.

Every muscle in my body protested and my lungs burned. My breathing was ragged and painful, but I pushed myself onward. Slick tears dampened my cheeks and still I followed Sam. He looked to be in the same condition, and I wasn't about to be out-done by a teenager only a few years younger than me.

I didn't know where Jazz was or what had become of him. I had to believe that he would be okay, that Optimus wouldn't have made him his first lieutenant if he didn't make up for his smaller stature.

He would be okay. I trusted him, trusted that he would come back to me alive.

Behind us Megatron landed in a spray of sparks. We had sprinted into a part of town not yet touched by the battle, and I almost felt bad for bringing it there.

"Give me the cube!" Megatron demanded. Neither of us looked back.

We sprinted down the road, avoiding traffic, but a Cadillac Escalade didn't quite stop in time. I managed to side-step out of the way, but Sam wasn't as lucky: the car hit him, breaks squealing. Though Sam slid a ways up the hood, he managed to roll off and back to the ground.

When he hit the road, unable to get his feet under him, the cube in his arms slammed onto the pavement with a loud crack. I ran to his side as a blue light spread out in a wide radius around us, hopping over it as it arched toward me even though I wasn't sure if it was actually dangerous. Every mechanical thing in the area sparked and shuddered in response.

Sam gathered up the All Spark, I helped him stand, and he tore off again. There was a moment where I hesitated, transfixed with a man holding a game console box. The box was shimmering and sparking, and then tiny little robot arms burst from its container, making me jump in surprise.

"What the hell," I muttered, finally turning to follow after Sam.

To my right, a Mountain Dew machine came to life and transformed into a small robot. I pranced around it and sprinted to keep up with Sam, hoping that these robots didn't cause the citizens too much trouble.

Sam had a head start on me, but I was falling further and further behind. At the very least, Sam seemed to have finally found his way to the building. I wasn't sure which one he had been heading for, but he veered around a corner and headed straight for a large white building. It looked like a library, or a court house maybe.

But it also looked run-down and abandoned.

Finally I managed to catch up to him, but only because he stopped once he was inside the building to wait for me. We were both breathless and flushed, covered in dirt and grime. We had a brief moment to catch our breath while we thought of our next move.

"What—what are we—doing here?" I asked between gulps of air.

He glanced around, Cube tucked under his arm. His chest heaved with each labored breath. "We have to—get to the roof and—signal the military."

"That way." I said, pointing. I was doubled over, hands on my knees. I could hear something large stomping toward the building right outside. We didn't have much more time. "There might—be some stairs—in the back."

The two of us took another few seconds to catch our breath, and then we were running toward the back of the decrepit building. A window crashed behind us somewhere and Megatron called out again. "I can _smell_ you, fleshlings!" I didn't know if the building could take much more damage before it collapsed on top of us.

"You're not going to get me! Not gonna get me," Sam muttered, chancing a quick glance over his shoulder.

We finally came upon some stairs hidden in a graffiti-riddled hall and we scrambled upwards, leaping two steps at a time to put some distance between us and the Decepticon leader. The stairwell was narrow and we had to move single-file up the winding steps. My leg muscles burned and I had a stitch in my side, but adrenaline fueled me onward.

After a few levels the stairs stopped and we had to find another set. The floor was slick with rain water and a few times my shoes slipped, but I always managed to stay upright and keep running.

It was too quiet.

The ground behind us started to rupture. The wood panels split and Megatron's massive head tore through the floor like it was made of paper mache. Sam swore and if I had had the breath, I would have screamed. I was thrown forward through the air a ways and skidded across the floor, Megatron's arm slamming through a support pillar.

Sam stopped just long enough to help me up and I sprang forward, barely missed by the tips of Megatron's claws as he reached for me.

"Maggots!" he spat.

We finally found another set of stairs, one more open than the last. Sam paused his ascent to glance over the railing, but I knew if I stopped I wouldn't be able to keep going. I swallowed the saliva that pooled in my mouth and gulped air. The stairs seemed endless.

_Just a little further_, I told myself. I could already see the sky through a destroyed hatch.

I was running on nothing but fumes.

A maintenance ladder led up onto the roof and the two of us stopped at the bottom to catch our breath. I collapsed on the ground and Sam crouched next to me, gasping. "There's not—much further. We're—almost there."

"How are we—going to signal them?" I asked. My throat was dry and scratchy. No matter how much saliva I swallowed, it didn't make it feel better.

Sam removed a flare from his jacket pocket and held it up. "I'm—supposed to light this."

"How?"

"I'll figure it out."

The building started to rumble and I knew we had run out of time again.

"C'mon," I said, struggling to stand. Sam hauled himself up as well and handed me the cube so he could climb up the ladder.

It wasn't much, but the small break had let me catch my breath just enough to keep going. If I managed to survive this, I wasn't doing jack shit for a week. I was going to become a couch potato.

The roof was covered in all sorts of power boxes and pipes. We ducked and weaved around the obstacles, trying to find a patch of open space for the signal.

After finding our way to the edge of the building, we followed it all the way through.

Sam slammed the butt of the flare into a wall and waved it through the air, smoke billowing in the sky. I trailed after him, slowed to a jog. Even with adrenaline pumping through my veins, I wasn't going to be able to continue on much longer, but rescue was just a few minutes away. I could keep going at least long enough to be rescued.

We finally broke through the maintenance side of the building and onto a wide expanse with only a few electric boxes and wires lining the roof.

Movement caught my eye and I turned to track it—helicopters behind us, and to the side, something landing on a building two blocks out. Big, triangular shoulders and boxy chest, long legs—no.

"Starscream," I muttered, stopping short. "Sam!"

There was no way he could hear me over the helicopters around us. The end of the roof was near, and one of them was rising from the side of the building. A man was hanging out of the open side panel, his arms reached out for the Cube. Sam jumped up to the ledge and extended the small block of metal out.

"Sam!" I screamed, moving toward him again. I knew my words were just getting eaten by the drone of the helicopters, but I had to try. "Get back!"

Finally he seemed to notice, with or without my screaming. He turned his head and pulled the All Spark back to his chest. I saw his mouth open but didn't hear what he said. My legs buckled from under me when a missile slammed directly into the helicopter, making it spiral out of control and almost cleave Sam in two.

"Shit! Shit shit," I gasped, back-peddling once I managed to stand. "Sam c'mon! Get up!"

Starscream jumped from the roof he was on and flew towards my building. My breath hitched and I scuttled in the opposite direction, trying to run back to the cover of the electrical boxes and pipes we had come from.

I hoped Sam had found his own place to hide—Megatron had finally caught up with us. He burst from a skylight just as I was ducking behind a wall.

For one glorious minute I thought I was home free. I was safe behind the walls and I could see the ladder ahead of me. All I had to do was shimmy down back inside the building and I could hide there until it was all over.

Part of me felt bad for leaving Sam. But if I could draw Starscream away, then maybe he would have a better chance of escaping Megatron.

That was what I told myself, anyway.

The ladder was just a small sprint away. I put on one last burst of speed and reached out for the handle, ready to spin and slide myself down. Soon as my fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the rail, something grabbed me from behind and yanked me backwards.

"Got you."

"No!" I screeched, reaching for the railing, trying desperately to grab it and hold on for dear life. It was too late, though. I was pulled further and further away from it, and the grip around my body was tightened more and more until I could barely fill my lungs with air. Tears stung my eyes and I choked back a sob.

"Your precious protector isn't here this time, insect!" Starscream sneered, bringing me to his face. His glowing red eyes pierced straight to my soul.

Jazz—what did he do with Jazz?

Just when I thought he was going to crush me like a bug, Megatron put a stop to it. "Starscream, we may be able to use her for leverage. Don't kill her quite yet," he ordered. I heard his massive footsteps and wondered how the roof wasn't caving under his weight.

I wanted to cry out to Sam, but I couldn't draw in enough air to shout. When I spoke, it was barely above an indoor voice. "Sam, don't give them the Cube."

"Silence!" Starscream demanded. He shook me hard enough that I teetered on the edge of consciousness. "Lord Megatron, this human has no power over that boy, she is insignificant, just let me crush her now and get her out of the way."

"Are you questioning my order?" Megatron hissed.

Starscream paused, and then I felt him bend slightly. "Of course not, Lord Megatron."

The Decepticon leader was silent a moment, but then addressed Sam. I did my best to stay awake and lift my torso to see. "Give me the All Spark, boy, and you may yet survive this," Megatron offered, bracing himself against a statue.

"Never!" Sam shouted from below.

A helicopter buzzed passed us and I blinked away the fog in my eyes, tried to focus. Megatron snarled at it as it passed, then turned to look towards me and Starscream. I found a little bit of my strength and tried to wriggle out of Starscream's claws, but it just made him hold me tighter.

"Give me the All Spark, and I'll make sure Starscream spares your friend," Megatron tried. This time there was no quick rebuke, no initial denial. Was Sam actually considering. . . ?

_Yes, please, save me._

Starscream scoffed, as if he had no intention to follow such orders.

"Sam! Sam, don't you _dare_!" I uttered hoarsely, unsure If he could hear me.

_No, please, save me. It hurts, I'm scared._

My captor certainly heard me. "I said silence!" he snapped, shaking his hand to rattle me again. I yelped in pain and bent over in his grip, panting. That was probably a broken rib: each breath like being stabbed with a knife.

"I'm never giving you this All Spark!" Sam promised at last.

Relief and terror fought for dominance in my chest. Relief that Sam wasn't going to doom the planet for me, terror that I was now going to die. Starscream rumbled with pleasure at Sam's belligerence.

_No, no, I'm scared—I'm scared!_

"So unwise," Megatron sighed. His hand transformed into a flail and he inclined his head slightly toward us. "Starscream?"

"With pleasure, Lord Megatron!"

Starscream jumped back off the building as Megatron swiped his weapon through the corner of the roof, knocking Sam off. I saw him soar through the air and then he disappeared from my view.

Despite the searing pain that threatened to knock me out, I screamed.

When I tried to call out Sam's name, I choked on the breath and slumped over Starscream's hand in pain.

I was falling for a brief instant, and then Starscream lifted off into the air and landed on another building, bringing his arm up so I was at his eye level. "You'll be with your parents soon enough, insect," he snickered gleefully.

Darkness rimmed my vision. Crushing pain made it hard for me to breathe.

_Jazz—Jazz help. _Dread filled me as Starscream's cold fingers slowly crushed me. My own personal angel of death.


End file.
